Bridges
by Renica Swavely
Summary: Set 5 years after BNW, Claire is living at the carnival, while Gabriel/Sylar is still in NYC. They see each other for the first time at Peter's wedding, giving Gabriel the opportunity to redeem himself. When he comes to live in the Specials safe haven, he attempts to prove he has changed. Claire doesn't believe it until an attack shows him in a new light. Sylaire
1. 5 Years Later

**5 Years Later**

"_If you just walked away, what could I really say? Would it matter anyway? Would it change how you feel? I am the mess you chose, the closet you can not close. The devil in you, I suppose, __'__cause the wounds never heal." - Staind_

Gabriel Gray stood outside the large wood doors of the building. He couldn't remember the last time he had stepped foot in a church. Knowing what he did know about faith, he half-expected to be struck down by lightning or burst into flames the second he stepped inside. Instead, he was enclosed in a tight hug by his closest friend.

"I'm getting married today," Peter said, running a hand through his unruly, dark hair. "I'm getting married in a few hours."

His smile was larger than normal. Gabriel was happy for him. Emma was kind, beautiful, and smart — making her a clear match for Peter. The only living Petrelli son had asked her out only days after the Samuel Sullivan arrest. After that it was, as the saying goes, smooth sailing. Only six months later, Peter had moved in with Emma, leaving Gabriel alone in the apartment they had been sharing.

The space was comforting in a way. Though originally Peter's apartment, Gabriel had furnished it, stocked the pantry, and kept it clean. It had become his sanctuary. He smiled to himself, realizing the irony of that thought, considering he was currently in a true sanctuary. He blamed his twisted childhood for appreciating the beauty of quiet solitude to the over-dramatic decor of the church with the aggressive organ music.

"I can't believe today is the day."

"If you proposed when I told you to, you wouldn't have had to wait this long," Gabriel reminded him.

"Waiting makes the heart grow fonder," Peter quoted, still smiling.

"Alright, Romeo. Let's get you suited up. We're late."

While they joined the other groomsmen in the back room, Gabriel did a mental checklist of all the items he needed for the remainder of the evening. Rings, check. Speech, check. Wedding gift for the happy couple, check. Date for the reception, no check.

He considered himself an attractive man. Despite his handsome looks and charming personality, when he wasn't attempting to commit cold-blooded murder, he hadn't found anyone. There had been a few dates over the years. Some were Specials and some weren't. He had a strong inkling that most of the Special suitors were just curious to see what he was like now that he had resigned from world domination and collecting powers. Not one of them gave him the goofy grin Peter wore every time he saw Emma.

As the prelude music began, Gabriel let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. He shifted back and forth on his feet as he stood in the alcove, waiting. Standing up front next to his friend would put him on the spot. He wanted to be happy for Peter and Emma. If his unease was caught on photograph, he'd have an eternity to regret it. He forced himself to focus on happier times. The pastor motioned to the groomsmen to step forward. The first of five began the walk out, when Gabriel noticed the side door had opened.

Peter hadn't mentioned his niece was attending. Her hair was longer than the last time he had laid eyes on her. It was well past her shoulders now. It was still the same lovely shade, but not as straight. There was a natural waviness to it that worked with her dress. It was a floor length white gown with golden leaves imprinted on it. There was a mini gold corset at the top with matching straps. She looked radiant, a sun goddess visiting the night. As if she sensed his intense gaze, she turned and looked directly at him. For a split second their eyes locked. Just as quickly, she broke it and hurried over to Peter.

_She still sees the monster._

* * *

"Hey, you made it." Peter's face lit up when he saw her. He pulled her into a tight hug. "It's good to see you, Claire."

She paused to take in the warmth of his embrace. He looked older. There was gray in his hair line and small wrinkles under his eyes. He was happy. The same positive grin was plastered on his face. Always the optimist, he didn't mention her absence or ask how her life among the carnies was. He just enjoyed the moment, glad she was present. He smelled like Nathan. Knowing Peter, he had probably put on a splash of his brother's cologne in honor of him.

Peter had always idolized Nathan. Even after what he had done to his own kind, Peter had always saw the best in his older brother. Claire had wanted to see that. She had wanted to meet her biological father since she first discovered her ability. Nathan had not been what she had expected. It had been more disappointing then the day she had met Meredith and hurt worse. The constant lies and betrayals reminded her too much of her life at home with her real dad.

"Wish me luck." He gave her arms a quick squeeze, before walking out.

Claire watched him join his friends on the altar steps. She realized she needed to take a seat out in the crowd, but she hesitated. Her place in this world had never been clear. For most teenagers, New York City was thrilling and help promises of so many "could-be" fantasies. To Claire the city served as a harsh reminder of battles fought, friends lost, and the life she had chosen to abandon.

It had been five years almost to the day since she had left. In that time she had barely spoken to Noah. He had remarried. Always a company man, he worked closely with his new wife, Lauren at the CIA. She was sure on some-level he knew her whereabouts. He had attempted several times to track her down and visit, in an effort to confront her and force her back to "civilized society." Claire had turned him down on each occasion or avoided him completely.

Edgar had transitioned into the new leader at the Sullivan Brother's Carnival. Having been around almost as long as Lydia, he was one of the remaining originals of the family. Though Edgar appreciated what her dad had done to over-throw Samuel, his allegiance was to the carnival family. With Claire as the newest member, he was dutifully bound to maintain keep her safe and protected. Surprisingly, Eli had also taken to Claire, assisting Edgar by offering himself up for guard duty. His ability made him the perfect watch dog and his distrust of her father made him a difficult adversary for Noah to get past.

Peter hadn't reached out. He had waited her out until she reached out to him. In a way only he could, Peter understood her hurt and how betrayed she felt. While he couldn't honestly support her idea to reveal their secret to the world, he hadn't condemned her for it either. She had held out for over a year before she had felt the overwhelming need to call him. When he answered his phone, he had acted as if nothing was wrong.

She had spent two hours catching up with him. He had never rushed her or questioned her too deeply about where she was or hinted at the idea of her coming home. He merely listened. After a couple of weeks, she called again. And so it went on. She continued to check-in with him every one to two weeks. He had mentioned Emma early on and Claire was happy to finally have the chance to meet the woman who had won Peter's heart. Though she did feel bad about the mother-in-law Emma would be inheriting.

That thought brought her back to the problem at hand. Weighing her options between her dad and Angela Petrelli, Claire opted for an empty pew a few rows behind both of them. She noticed how her father's face immediately tightened when she walked past. Angela, in contrast, remained poised, unflinching with a classy smile on her lips. The old Claire would have felt guilty, but she barely had any feelings toward them anymore.

As she slipped into her seat, she spotted Hiro Nakamura who was waving spastically at her. He was seated next to his friend Ando and the woman Claire presumed was Ando's wife. The way she kept tilting her head towards the Japanese man and softly touching him, made Claire happy and sad at the same time. It was wonderful to see Peter and her friends happy in their lives. They had fulfilling existences in the world. There were no more company plots, no more "let save the world" moments, and no more Samuel Sullivans to worry about.

At the carnival, Claire was popular. Once she had dedicated her life to living as one of them, she had been accepted without question. Each day more and more of the family came to know her until she greeted each as warmly as she would Sandra or Lyle. A few of the man had asked her out and even one of the women, but Claire had turned them all down. After her failed relationship with West and her flirtation with Gretchen, she had decided she needed to figure out who she was before she could be with someone else.

The decision had seemed mature at the time, but now Claire felt the familiar pang of loneliness. She noted Matt Parkman with his wife on the other side of Hiro, with their son and a baby girl. Suresh and his wife were sitting in the same pew along with a few other people Claire didn't recognize.

The organ music changed to the traditional "Here Comes the Bride" tune. Claire rose to her feet, turning to see her future aunt. Emma was dressed in a long-sleeved, v-neck white gown. The sleeves and back of the dress was lace. The pattern was a larger version of the lace that made up her veil. Through the thin fabric, Claire could see the tears in her eyes as she glided past, moving to the front towards Peter. She was undeniably happy.

Claire couldn't fathom that grade of happiness. Though her parents had been married for almost twenty years, she had never seen Sandra look at Noah the way Emma was smiling at Peter. Peter also looked the portrait of perfect groom. She could see the sheen in his eyes, sparkling at the corners where the tears were forming. He had always been the more emotional of the two Petrelli boys. She was glad. Genuinely, she felt thankful that after all they had been through Peter was able to connect with someone. Even if Emma had been normal, Claire would have been grateful her uncle was settling down. He had sacrificed so much to preserve the good in the world. She knew he deserved all the happiness the world could grant him.

Watching how carefree and pleased he was made the pang of loneliness a tad easier to bear. It also reminded her that one day in the not so distant future, he would be gone. Everyone in this room would be gone. She would linger on this Earth far longer than any of them cared to know. They would all eventually pass on, all except her.

_And Sylar_, she thought bitterly.

She didn't understand how Peter could make his brother's killer his best man. _Isn__'__t that taboo?_ She shook her head. When Peter had shown up at the carnival with Sylar, she hadn't believed it. She thought she was in some weird alternate universe or it was an illusion brought on by the shock of what she had attempted to do. Even once her uncle had tried to explain, she had rejected the idea. It seemed that no one else shared her opinion anymore. They all saw the reformed murderer as a friend.

She only saw a monster.

* * *

After the ceremony concluded, the photographer asked everyone to leave the chapel. He demanded to be left alone with the wedding party and close family for the sake of his artistic sense. It had been all Gabriel could do not to roll his eyes. The only thing artistic about the photographer was his price tag.

As the shots were snapped one after the other, he found himself checking the exiting guests for one blonde. Claire wasn't anywhere to be found. Given the exasperated expression on Noah Bennet's face, Gabriel figured she had left right after the ceremony concluded in order to avoid her father. He smirked. After all the years Noah had attempted to confine her, control her, Claire had gone out and done what she had wanted to do anyway. Whether she cared to admit it or not, they truly did have many things in common.

"To the park!" The photographer shouted, signaling the end of their time in the chapel. "Quickly, quickly my little muses."

Gabriel noticed how the women in Emma's bridal party all laughed. Their faces were flushed, tipping him off to the amount of champagne they had consumed before the ceremony. All around people were rushing, hurrying to get every action, word, or idea into each moment of their lives. As the group left the church and hurried into Central Park, he realized how preciously short their lives would be in comparison to his. He had no reason to rush through his day to day actions. Time meant nothing anymore. The only meaning it held was the harsh reality that he would be alone. Once his friends were gone, he would remain. His connection to his former life, his true self would cease to exist. He feared that day more than anything else.

Losing himself had awakened the humanity in his soul. He had had an epiphany after his closet discussion with Claire. Giving up the power he had killed to obtain forced him to relinquish his control. Once he had stopped attempting to control all aspects of his life, he finally found his true purpose. He could be a hero.

Peter had provided him the opportunity to fulfill the role. After he had saved Emma, he couldn't deny the hunger. He already had Doyle's power, but the need to cut open the man had come upon him. He felt the familiar twitch in his pointer finger, could almost smell the blood pouring out from his skull cap. Then he thought of Claire. The look on her face when he had let her live after he had stolen her power. He pictured how shocked she had been when he had saved her from the vortex. He saw himself sitting next to her in the darkness of the janitor's closet at her college. She had stared at him, annoyed at his trickery, but impressed he hadn't hurt her or Gretchen.

And his finger fell.

Alternative methods for dealing with the Puppet Master had been taken. His resolve had been rewarded when Peter had emerged, clearly expecting the worst. Peter's approval gave him hope. With the carnival disbanding due to Samuel's betrayal, he figured Claire would return to college. He was seriously considering applying. If he was on campus with her, she would have to see him in a different light. Soon she'd grant him the same approval as Peter. Besides, he never got to partake in the college experience. It would be fun.

His plan crashed and burned the instant she had jumped off the Ferris wheel.

What had occurred afterwards had done nothing to resuscitate it. Claire had felt ambushed by them all. Like any teenager, she took their criticism to heart and ran off. He thought she would return home after a few weeks, unable to stay mad at her father. She had proven him wrong. Her stubbornness rivaled Noah Bennet's in every way. She went off the grid, giving up her cell phone and her pampered life. He learned later through Peter she had gone off with the carnival.

After the weeks turned into months with no word from her to anyone, including Peter, he had given up on both college and the opportunity to prove himself to Claire.

"You ok?" Peter put an arm around his shoulder, pulling him aside for groom and best man photos. "You seem distracted."

"Just thinking."

"This isn't the time to think," Peter laughed. "We're almost done here and then we can finally eat something." Gabriel forced a smile. "And drink too. I need something to calm me down."

"You are jumpier than normal," he agreed.

"Wedding jitters."

The photographer finished up, sauntering over to the giggling women to usher them over to the reception. "Are you sure you're ok?" Peter asked. "Mom didn't say something again, did she?"

"No," Gabriel chuckled.

"Good." Peter ran a hand through his hair. "Is it hot? I thought October would be cooler."

"Wedding jitters," Gabriel reminded him.

"Right." Peter nodded. They missed the light to cross the street. The rest of the wedding party was already entering the Petrelli home, when they stopped on the corner. "Did you see Claire made it?" The enthusiasm in his voice was not missed.

"Yes."

"I didn't think she'd get the invitation. Its not like they have a P.O. Box out there."

"You're her hero. She wasn't going to miss your wedding."

"Yeah," Peter's smile grew.

Gabriel understood how fond his friend was of his niece. She was the first person to have encouraged Peter's ability. Saving her had given him purpose. It wasn't until later he uncovered the truth about her connection to him. He had confided to Gabriel how angry he had been at Nathan for hiding her away. His friend's frustration was how Gabriel also felt in regards to the situation. Claire was special. Nathan had never appreciated her for who she was and it had always irritated him.

He could almost hear Chandra's voice in his head telling him it was from his suppressed childhood anger at his own father walking out on him. _Technically both of them walked out on me_, he thought grimly. It hadn't been long after he had met his biological father that he had passed. Gabriel had been waiting for the news. The man felt nothing for anyone. He was selfish, cruel, and detached. Seeing him had been part of Gabriel's wake-up call.

The light changed and they crossed. Angela had certainly outdone herself. Petrelli mansion was decorated as if the President was coming. The irony of that thought caught him as he walked into the foyer.

"Peter," the hostess came over, hugging her son. "Emma is upstairs having her makeup touched up. Can you get her? I want shots of you both on the staircase. It will be lovely."

"Sure, Mom."

"Sylar," Angela greeted him, curtly.

"Angela." He nodded to her. "Congratulations."

"Thank you." She waved toward the dining room, which spilled out onto the back patio. "Make yourself comfortable. Dinner will be served in an hour in the ballroom."

As he entered the room, he noted Noah Bennet storming across the floor to where Claire was talking to Parkman. Gabriel recognized the look of determination on his ex-partner's face. It would be poor manners to interrupt.

He made his way over to the bar. Alcohol had a limited effect on him, but he had a feeling he would need whatever he could in order to get through the evening. He had given up on the idea of Claire years ago. Her absence from his life and the lives of those around him made it an easy decision. There were few calls to Peter and no surprise visits to Angela's house for dinner to tempt him with her smile or her scent. At first he had dreamed of her, coming back and forgiving him, but those hopes washed away with time. The tattoo on his arm never faded, but the hurt and the loneliness did. The dull pain was becoming sharper now. Her presence brought back the longing, his desperate need for her approval and forgiveness.

Over the years he had grown closer to Peter. Emma was accepting of him, as well. Though he cautioned her about his past, she only saw him as the hero who had freed her from Doyle's torture. It took longer for Angela to come around. She no longer called him Sylar in a way that sounded like she was spitting out a bad taste in her mouth. She couldn't bring herself to call him by his birth name, but he didn't bother to correct her anymore.

Peter and Emma's engagement party had been the first occasion to bring the entire gang back together without the threat of the world ending. Gabriel had been pleasantly surprised to reconnect with Parkman, Mohinder, Hiro, and Ando. Peter's word had granted him a second chance with them all. He was able to express his sincerest apologies. It was tense at first, but after months of reaching out to them, assisting wherever and whenever he could, trust formed. At the time, he had regretted not having the chance to redeem himself to Claire. Peter had promised the day would come eventually, but even he agreed that it would take her awhile to come around. She hadn't been ready to face any of them yet.

Apparently, that had changed. She was ready to face everyone. Everyone but him. He couldn't blame her. He remembered what had happened that night.

He slid to the side of the bar, telekinetically sending a bottle of Pinot into his open hand. Unnoticed, he made his way to the kitchen, cutting through the servant's passage upstairs to the roof access. By the time he reached the roof, the memory was rolling through his mind, like a movie.

"_My name is Claire Bennet. This is attempt number…guess I've kind lost count." _

_She snapped her arm back in place, walking forward towards the others. When she had begun her climb they were all separated, but she could still see them. Hiro and Ando off to the side. Her dad and Lauren in front of them a few yards. Peter and him on the other side of the carnival. Now that she was back on the ground she could see who he was. The second she did, she stopped. _

_The reporters took her hesitation as an invitation. They launched a full blown attack on her full of camera flashes, microphones, and some where even reaching forward with tablets for her autograph. People were shouting to her from all angles. From where he was, watching her, he could barely piece together what they were saying. She looked flustered and lost. He started to push through them, when Peter grabbed his arm. _

"_We need to talk to Hiro. We have to fix this." _

"_What?"_

"_Claire understand what she did." _

_He disagreed with his friend, but he followed him over to where Noah Bennet was already speaking with Hiro and Ando. As he neared them, their conversation was easier to pick up. "We have to end this here and now," Noah was saying. "Go back in time and I'll stop her from doing this. Then I'll call Renee and he'll wipe her memories of the carnival. She'll go back to college and this whole thing will be over." _

"_Wipe her memories?" That part of the plan didn't sit well with Peter. _

"_If we don't get rid of her need for disclosure, a need Samuel gave her, then she'll try this again." Noah gave them all a pointed look. "You know she will." _

"_Yeah, but I don't want to erase her memories." _

"_I agree," he stated, stepping forward. "What the Haitian erases another memory by accident?"_

"_He won't."_

"_And if he does?"_

"_I'll deal with it." _

"_I don't like it."_

"_No one asked you." Noah fixed him with a cold stare. "Sylar." _

_Peter stepped between them. "She's my niece," he began, as if that gave him a level of jurisdiction over the matter. "I don't like the idea of us messing around in her brain." _

"_She's my daughter," Noah argued. "I know what's best for her." _

_He hadn't been able to help himself. He was enraged at the idea of Bennet using his authority over his own child. "Like lying to her and leaving her alone to die in a hospital aren't enough?"_

"_Stay out of this!"_

"_Fine," he held up his hands. He move away from the group, but as he left, he brushed Hiro's side, briefly making contact with his hand. _

_When Hiro went back in time, he went with him. Peter never noticed. He had predicted Claire would run off when her father confronted her. When she did, he shifted into Hiro Nakamura's form and waited at the entrance to the park. "Cheerleader! Cheerleader!" He jumped up and down, waving his arms wildly, trying to get Hiro's body language down. Her eyes had lit up upon seeing him. "Escape?" He had asked. _

"_Yeah, can you take me where you took everyone else from the carnival, please?" Her words were coming out in short breaths. _

_He put one hand on her shoulder, bowed his head, and poof they landed in the middle of no where. At first he was nervous because he didn't see anyone. Touching another person granted him access to multiple powers: shape-shifting, replicating the power, understanding the history of the person, etc. Sometimes it was hard to decipher everything at once. He was afraid he had seen the wrong area to land. _

_Then he saw Edgar. "Claire?" _

_She had run to him and Gabriel backed away, sending himself back to Central Park. She would cool down. She'd come back to New York and one day he'd tell her what he'd done. Then they could start building bridges. _

* * *

"Claire." Her father maneuvered through the crowd of people mingling inside of the Petrelli mansion. She inwardly groaned. She knew eventually he would corner her. "I didn't know you were coming to the wedding." She saw Matt shuffled away, out of the corner of her eye. Even though they were all old friends, no one messed with Noah Bennet when he was on a mission.

"Hi Lauren." Claire forced a smile, purposely avoiding her dad.

"Claire." The woman nodded with a tight smile. It was no surprise Noah had married her. She was the exact same person. "How are you?"

"Fine. And you?"

"Great. Did your dad tell you he just got another promotion?"

"No." Claire shook her head, still wearing her fake grin. She could play nice for as long as she had to. Her father had trained her well.

"It's not important. Lauren, why don't you find our seats. I just want a moment to catch up with Claire." Lauren nodded with a smile. She planted a quick kiss on Noah's cheek before stepping away. "I see your still not a very good liar." Maybe not as well as she had thought.

She shrugged. "What can I say? Some traits you just can't inherit from your parents, biological or adopted."

He didn't miss the intended jab. "Are you staying in New York for a while?"

"No, I'm heading back after the wedding."

"Your mother would like to see you."

"I call her."

"You don't call me."

"I don't have anything to say," she responded quickly. "You made it perfectly clear that you'd rather wipe me than deal with me."

"Claire, just because I-."

She held up her hand, cutting him off. "I've heard all of the excuses before, Dad. You've been lying to me my whole life. I have the speech down by now. I can even mimic that desperate tone, if you want."

"I was trying to protect you." He insisted, reaching forward to place his hands on her shoulders. Claire anticipated it. She backed away before he could make contact. He sighed, removing his glasses to check for dust, which they both knew wasn't there, then replacing them on his face. "I don't understand why you won't come back home."

The last word was like a trigger. It sent Claire back to that fateful night.

"_Miss, you look like you want to say something." _

_A report stuck his microphone in her face. She glanced up at her dad. She wanted to tell the truth, wanted to be free of living this life built on lies and deception. Her father knew her too well. He put his hand on her shoulder, directing her away from the crowd. She tried to pull away, but he held onto her with his other arm. _

"_We're done here, Claire." His voice had a sharp tone to it. _

"_Dad." She pulled again, trying to move away. This time Lauren came over, joining them on Claire's other side. She pressed something against Claire's hip. It felt like a gun. _

"_We're leaving now," she said. _

_Claire looked up at her father, then at Lauren. She walked with them until they were away from the crowd. Hiro, Ando, Peter, a woman she hadn't seen before, and Sylar were waiting off to the side. She noted the serial killer was keeping a very close eye on the time-traveler. _

"_It's all over with. I'm taking Claire home. Thank you for your help." _

_She shoved out of his and Lauren's hold. "I'm not going home," she hissed. _

"_Claire," he reached out his hand, sounding disappointed and tired. "Come on."_

"_No," she swatted his hand away. Everyone was giving her a strange look. Everyone but the serial killer. "What did you do?"_

"_Nothing." _

_She shook her head, knowing in her gut he was lying. She backed away from him. "How can you keep lying to me?" Her eyes were burning with tears. He had nearly died tonight, but he survived. Instead of taking that as a sign, as a second chance to start over, he had gone back to his old ways. She felt sick. "I'm not going anywhere with you." Before anyone could say or do anything, she took off running. _

_Navigating through the exiting crowds and tents, she managed to get to one of the park entrances. She was surprised to find Hiro waiting for her. She was more surprised when he offered to take her to meet up with the carnival residents. She had always like Hiro, but they hadn't spent much time together. He seemed to be the only one supporting her and she was in no position to refuse help. She never even got a chance to thank him. _

"There's a reason I haven't been back," she growled, focusing on the present. "You!"

She turned on her heel and left the ballroom. It was so like him to start something, egging her to rise to the occasion. She didn't want to continue to fight with her father, not on Peter's wedding day. The house hadn't changed. She climbed the spiral staircase to the third floor, where her room had been at one time. She slipped inside, closing the door quietly behind her, twisting the lock in place.

When she turned on the light, she noticed Angela hadn't change a thing. The bedspread, curtains, and rugs were all the same. There were even a few college brochures still sitting on top of the unused desk. Claire sat down by the window, wondering if things would have been different if she had gone off to school, never asking questions about what either of her fathers were doing. Maybe her dad was right. Maybe she had made her life difficult on purpose.

Time and time again, she had fought against him. Every time he asked her to keep quiet or follow his instructions, she deliberately disobeyed and got herself into trouble. There were occasions when it paid off in the end, such as the time when she helped Alex escape or when she had gone back in time to remove the catalyst from herself. She hadn't seen or heard from Alex since that night. She hoped he was alive and had found a way to live out in the world, the way she had.

The room felt small all of a sudden. It had been years since she had so much space to herself. Despite the amble area available, she felt as if she couldn't breathe. She unlatched the window, crawling out onto the fire escape. Peter had showed her how to climb up to the roof, when she had lived here. She still remembered how.

Her fingers curled over the ledge, as she pulled herself up and over the top. She stood there for a moment admiring the open night air, surrounding the city's skyline. It was a glitter of dazzling lights. For a moment, she missed living here with Peter and her grandmother, even though she felt the same way about Angela as she did her father. Both were cold, calculating, and lied constantly. Manipulation was their game and she was tired of it. She moved to take a seat on the corner of the building, when she noticed a figure out of the corner of her eye.

She wasn't alone.

* * *

"Claire, what a nice surprise." He emerged from the shadows, walking over to her. He held out the nearly empty bottle of Pinot.

She made a disgusted face at him. "Are you stalking me?"

"I was here first," he pointed out. He finished the wine, placing the bottle down. "But if you're offering your company, I accept." His lips turned up in a wicked smile. He had forgotten how much he liked to toy with her. It was so easy.

"That wasn't an invitation."

"Still angry about that kiss?" he teased, burying his hands in his pockets.

"That wasn't a kiss," she cried, defensively, muttering something under her breath that he couldn't make out.

"What?"

"Don't think you'll get that chance again," she said to him in a biting tone. "I'll find a way to put you in the ground. I have forever to figure it out."

He sighed, surveying the city, as he leaned back on the ledge. "Eternity is a long time, Claire."

She rolled her eyes, obviously not caring. He had to admit, being stuck as a seventeen year old was probably not the way anyone envisioned lasting eternity. Raging hormones were annoying the first time around, but having to permanently live through it was a different kind of hell. He could forgive her for the dramatic outbursts. She wasn't even legally old enough to drink, not that that would stop her. He had no issues being as he was. He was old enough to acquire what he needed legally. _The things worth having can__'__t be bought._ He was sure he had seen a cross stitching of that saying in his mother's home at one time.

"I don't want to be alone."

"You're a psychopath," she hissed, backing away from him.

"If I am, it's because that's what my powers have made me." He hated how desperate he sounded, even if what he said was the truth. "When Chandra Suresh first found me, I only had my ability to understand how things work and decipher how to fix them. It was new and exciting. After a lifetime of wishing to be special, I finally had something of my own that truly made me unique."

She didn't comment on his story, but she didn't retreat back inside either.

"I felt as though I had a purpose beyond my watch shop and taking care of my mother. I wanted to explore my ability and the abilities of others. The excitement became intoxicating. After I killed the man who had telekinesis, I lost myself. The excitement was replaced by guilt. It ate away at me, until I decided I couldn't live with it anymore. After I closed the store one day, I attempted to hang myself."

Her head snapped up, as she stared at him with confused, wide eyes. "Elle stopped me." Claire's expression was still unsure, but her attention was held.

"If I know then that it was the Company's doing, I would have told her to leave. I thought it was a sign. I believed she had saved me. In reality, your father and her were sent by the Company to see how many powers I could accumulate before putting me down. I was just a lab rat. They brought me Specials and pushed until I did what they had expected me to do. I tried to resist at first, but part of my initial power, the one I inherited from my father comes with a hunger. After the first few kills it had grown and it became unyielding."

Claire was listening, but still not speaking. She turned away, looking out onto the city. He considered telling her more, but then thought better of it. She understood what her father was capable of. There was no reason to put her through anymore pain on that subject. "I've never lied to you, Claire. Not once. And for what it's worth, I'm sorry." She bite back her bottom lip, nodding slightly.

"I'm not that person anymore."

Her voice came out soft, laced with a deep sadness. "I want to trust you."

"I can prove it." He felt as if he was begging her. Five years ago she nearly changed the entire world. All he had wanted to do was change her world. He could see his opportunity for redemption within his grasp. "Just give me a chance."

She opened her mouth to speak, but was interrupted when Noah joined them. He came charging out through the roof fire escape door. "Claire, what are you doing out here?"

"I needed space." She grumbled, her demeanor changing instantly. She crossed her arms over her chest. It was obvious she still hadn't forgiven him.

Noah ignored her immature stature and turned to give him a cold glare. "Sylar."

"I was just leaving," he stated, heading for the exit. "Enjoy the rest of the party."

As he passed through the door, he glanced over his shoulder at Claire. He was surprised when his eyes met hers. She had been watching him. She didn't drop her gaze when he caught her. He gave her a wink and watched the boiling anger take over her features as the door shut behind him.


	2. Only Human

**Chapter Two: Only Human**

"_You disappear with all your good intentions and all I am is all I could not mention. Like who will bring me flowers when it's over and who will give me comfort when it's cold." - Thriving Ivy_

Claire Bennet was not a patient person. As she stood on the Petrelli rooftop, she could feel the tension between her father and her growing. Noah Bennet was not patient either. Both contenders were locked in a stare down, neither willing to speak first and neither willing to submit to the other. She found herself wishing Sylar hadn't left. It would have provide the perfect distraction for her dad. He was probably the only person who hated the so-called reformed serial killer more than she did.

It had surprised her to find Sylar on the roof, sulking. He was well liked and had become an accepted member of their own little "hero family" as Hiro tended to call them. After the long string of dramatic events that had taken place over the course of a few years, she understood the bond they shared. She had chosen to ignore it. Hiro and Peter's journey had begun with one simple goal: 'Save the cheerleader, save the world.' When the cheerleader had asked them to stand with her and break in a new world, none of them had backed her up.

Saving the world was no longer the goal they all had to fulfill. They had opted to resume their lives. It seemed to be working for them. No cataclysmic events had taken place. No terrible villain had surfaced, requiring them to band together. Without Nathan in the Senate, the treat of being corralled up and carted away like vermin was also gone. The last five years had been blissfully uneventful.

She supposed they had made the right decision. They had all made sacrifices. They had all lost loved ones and friends. She understood the need for a stable life. She had been craving a normal life since she had first discovered her ability. The events at Kirby Plaza leading up to Sullivan Brother's Carnival had altered her feelings. As the days became filled with stranger occurrences and people began to emerge with newer powers and greater abilities she only saw fewer and fewer options.

Normal wasn't an option in the traditional sense. What was normal for her wasn't normal for others, like Gretchen. Leaving her friend behind had been difficult. When she had returned to her dorm to pack up what was left of her belongings, her mother had come with her. Claire had told her mom she didn't want to speak to her father after he had lied again. Sandra hadn't asked too many questions after hearing the hurt in her daughter's voice. As she always had, she rose to the occasion and came to Claire's aid.

"I don't understand why you're leaving." Gretchen had said, flopping down on her bed, watching Claire pack up all her books and belongings. "Your dad was just trying to protect you."

"You have no idea what he's capable of," Claire had replied, remembering how her father had gone behind her back to bring Gretchen to Thanksgiving.

At the time she had been grateful, relieved even. Having a friend she could confide in was a luxury she hadn't had in a while. She had been constantly fighting, constantly keeping her defenses up. Looking back on what her father had done, she wasn't sure how she felt about his interference with Gretchen.

"So because of him you have to leave?"

"No, because of what he did, I'm leaving. I'm not going to be a part of his plan anymore."

"What about your plan, huh?" Gretchen had retorted. Sandra had taken note of the rising emotions at that point and had excused herself to begin loading the SUV. "You wanted to have a normal college experience with friends and classes. What about that?"

"Normal for me isn't following the same track as an average twenty-year old." Claire had dropped a box on her bed, feeling exhausted by the argument.

She had been fielding calls from her father for days, ignoring them and sending them directly to voicemail. After listening to the first few messages which were more yelling than talking, she had begun deleting them without listening. The constant confrontation was eating away at her. She had resolved to live at the carnival. Nothing her father could say would keep her from following through on that, but she was becoming tired of his disapproval.

"I don't want to be here anymore. I don't belong here."

"You belong with me, remember?" Gretchen had rose from her spot on the bed, taking Cliare's hand, as the ex-cheerleader had reached for more clothes out of the closet.

Claire had instantly moved out of the way, taking a collection of her shoes instead. "And what happens after college?"

"What?"

"After graduation, where do we go from there?"

"I don't know. We get jobs and start a life."

Claire shook her head. "I'm starting my life now." She had taken the remainder of her clothes from the closet. "I need to be out on my own. Away from here and my dad. You don't know him like I do. If you did, you'd understand why."

"I know he loves you and I love y-." Gretchen had stopped talking after that.

Claire hadn't picked up on the silent declaration until later. She had been too preoccupied with packing. Most of the items in her dorm room she had donated to the Salvation Army. Other items she required for her new life, she gathered up in separate boxes to take back to her new home. Sandra hadn't been thrilled at her idea of living in a trailer. Nathan's inheritance had provided Claire with more than enough funds to buy a state of the line RV. She had opted for a pick-up truck and a 235BHS Apex. It wasn't the top of the line version Sandra had hope she'd pick, but it was spacious and had more amenities than most. It was a mansion in comparison to what the carnival residents had.

She hadn't made the decision lightly. She was aware the luxury of her accommodations would set her apart from her neighbors. On the other side, she was conscious of the fact she had never camped in her entire life and the life-changing decision of living on the move would be hard to transition to if she didn't take some modern comforts with her. In the end, it had all worked out.

Amanda liked to come by and use the shower when they were able to find a water hook-up. She had instantly attached herself to Claire, glad to have another female her age around, especially since her mother's death. She stopped by Claire's every chance she got. Happy to have made a connection, Claire had invited her to move into the trailer. Amanda had considered it, but she told Claire she couldn't give up the trailer her mother had left her.

"It's all I have left of her," Amanda had said. "It still smells like her. All her clothes are there, her knickknacks from the cities and towns we visited. I found some pictures of me growing up the other day in a drawer under her bed."

Claire understood Amanda's need to stay where she was. There were days she felt homesick. She missed waking up to Sandra cooking breakfast, or having Lyle's clueless expression greet her when she talked about her ability. They were small things, but it had made their house home.

Micah Saunders and Tracy Strauss had joined the carnival as well. Tracy had given up her life of martinis and over-priced salads on Capitol Hill to be around those who were like her. After what Samuel had offered her, she had been drawn to living with the traveling group. While she worked through the glitches in her powers, she had searched for other options. Like Claire, she had realized the only place she belonged was at the carnival.

Her nephew hadn't planning on making a home amongst them. They had found him. When they traveled through the northern mid-west, Micah had been holed up in an abandoned motel, still trying to track down Specials and get them help. Tracy had been overjoyed to see him. She had invited him to join them. After Edgar had seen what Micah was capable of, he had asked him to head up their security. It had annoyed Ei, but since Tracy's arrival, he had been attracted to her, so he relented.

The Saunders boy took the security job as a challenge. After a few months, he had revolutionized the way they were protecting their own. He got himself his own trailer. It didn't take him long to outfit it with state-of-the-art technology. Unlike the other residents, he barely left his home. He was hunkered down inside for the majority of his day. Still, Claire was glad to have him. He knew about Kirby Plaza, Nathan's attempt to relocate them, and the other events she had been through. It was nice to have him around when she needed to talk.

"Claire." Noah Bennet broke first, drawing his daughter back to the present. "Are we going to talk about this?"

"There's nothing to talk about."

"You'd rather talk to Sylar, the man who cut you open, tried to kill you, nearly killed me?"

"At least he never lied to me."

As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she realized how true it was. Sylar had been many things, mostly terrifying, but he had never once lied to her. He didn't feel the need to hide the truth. It made him appear more confident and powerful. There was no value to him in hiding behind lies. Unlike some people, he wasn't protecting anyones feelings or covering up the past. He knew what had happened and shone light on it, regardless of how that made people feel. Most of the things he shared hurt people, herself included, but the anger she felt as a result of that hurt was not directed at him. Her father was responsible for that.

"I was protecting you."

"From what, Dad?" She snapped. "People like me? People who are special?"

"Not everyone can be trusted, Claire. Peter, Matt, and Hiro — they know how to control their powers. They made a choice. You have seen what happens when someone makes a different choice."

Remembering what the serial killer had just told her, Claire furrowed her brows. "And what if they didn't get a choice? What if the Company turned them into a monster?"

Her father's eyes widened for a moment. In the next second he was stepping forward, putting his hands on her shoulders. "I don't know what he told you, but he killed those people. He is the reason they are dead. Not me."

Claire stepped out of his hold, swatting his hands away. "True, but you helped him along, right?"

She shook her head, disgusted. She could tell by the way her words had affected her father that Sylar had told her the truth, yet again. A guilty feeling twisted in her gut. All these years she had thought her father had been helping people, had been doing his work in order to keep her and those like her didn't agree with his methods, but they worked. Knowing so many of her problems could have been avoided sickened her. He was the catalyst that created the man in her nightmares.

"I hate you," she hissed.

"Claire!"

"Stay away from me!" She stopped at the door, glaring at him over her shoulder. "Don't call me. Don't try to find me. Don't track me down. I don't want to see you. Understand?" She left the roof, slamming the door behind her.

As she descended the steps, she felt the familiar prick of tears at the corners of her eyes.

* * *

Gabriel took a long sip of champagne to end his toast. He tried not to dwell on the fact that neither Noah Bennet or Claire Bennet was present at dinner. Luckily, Peter was too distracted by his beautiful bride to notice the two guests how had disappeared during the cocktail hour. A quick glance over at Angela told Gabriel their absence hadn't gone unnoticed by the Petrelli matriarch. He sat down, hands twisting the fabric napkin he had pulled in his lap.

Leaving the roof, he had known what would occur. Noah Bennet's frustration with his daughter had piled on year after year. At first, when she hadn't made contact with anyone it was manageable. Once she began to contact Peter on a somewhat regular basis, the old Company man had tried to force her back to civilization. Attempting to control Claire never worked. Gabriel was well aware of that fact. He was surprised Noah hadn't caught on. Still, he was uncomfortable with the length of time the two had been left alone on the roof.

As if she knew, Claire Bennet returned to the dining room. Instantly, he could see something was wrong. The blonde was hiding her face from the front of the room. He watched her take her seat at a small table in the back of the room, purposely leaving the open spot next to Hiro and Mohinder empty. Gabriel glanced over at his friend. Peter may not have noticed Claire's former absence, but he took note of her entrance.

Noah Bennet returned only seconds after, scanning the room once he walked through the door. He spotted his daughter, starting to move over to her table, when his new wife walked by, gently grabbing his forearm. She guided him back to their table, on the other side of Parkman. Words were exchanged between them, but he remained seated. Claire seemed unaware of the exchange, she was facing off to the side of the room, her hair covering her face.

"What's going on?" Peter asked, leaning over slightly in Gabriel's direction.

"Noah wants Claire to move home."

"Ah, the usual then?"

"Yes."

Peter shifted back in his seat, giving Emma a big smile. Gabriel barely tasted his filet mignon. He went through the motions of eating his dinner, but his eyes never strayed from the blonde. In his head, he kept replaying what she had said to him earlier. She wanted to trust him. It wasn't a declaration of intent, per say, but it was a step in the right direction.

He watched her start to compose herself, as a waitress brought over a plate of food. Moving to get up, he felt a hand on his shoulder. "I'll go talk to her," Peter said. "Might not come across right if you speak to her," he nodded towards Noah, who was also intently watching his daughter.

"Point taken."

Gabriel looked on as Peter crossed the room to his niece. He had been right in his assumption she had been crying. Peter picked up an extra napkin to wipe her face. She turned slightly, and he was able to see her crack a small smile. It was such a small action, so small it probably meant very little to anyone else, but he felt the tension in between his shoulder blades lessen. His hands stopped twisting at the napkin in his own lap.

He wouldn't have to murder Noah Bennet after all.

It was probably for the best. He had kept his five-year long streak clean. Ending his progress now wouldn't help his situation with Claire. He still had the problem of her leaving. After the wedding activities concluded, she'd return to the carnival. His opportunity to prove himself would walk out the door with her. He needed to find a way into her life. Noting her rattled state and Noah's present glare, he sighed.

An opportunity like that would require a small miracle.

* * *

Claire felt foolish for crying. It was such a teenaged girl reaction. Being stuck at seventeen didn't mean she had to act it. Ashamed, she didn't want to face the others. She found an area at the back away from everyone where she could recompose herself. She couldn't understand how her father could be so callous. How did he not see what his actions had done? He had created one of the worst killers in history. He had chased away her mother. He had lied to her numerous times and had continued to do so. There was no remorse.

She jumped slightly when a waitress came over to offer her salmon or filet mignon. "Salmon, please." She hadn't been able to eat seafood since the carnival had set-up on the Californian coast several months back.

Before the woman could return with her dinner, Peter appeared. Immediately, she began to pat her face, not wanting him to see her tears.

"Claire?"

"It's nothing."

He knelt down in front of her, taking a napkin from the table to dab her face. "You're a terrible liar." She laughed at his comment. It was ironic considering. "Noah has always been stubborn. You have that same trait."

She nodded, glad the tears had stopped. "I know."

"It's not a bad thing," Peter said, taking a seat next to her. "Maybe if you called him once in a while he'd ease up."

"No." She leaned forward, leveling her eyes with his.

"Claire."

"Peter." Her voice was stern. "You see him in a certain light. I get that. He's my father. I died once. My mom called him so many times she lost count. He never came. Do you know what an absence like that feels like?" He nodded. She bit back her bottom lip, taking a breath. "After that he promised he'd be there for me, no more secrets, no more lies. That never happened."

"He wants to protect you."

She rolled her eyes, sitting back in her seat. "I'm so sick of people saying that."

"Being indestructible doesn't mean you can't get hurt."

"Actually, that's exactly what it means," she chuckled, "thanks to your friend." She inclined her head toward the front table.

Peter put his hand on her knee, leaning forward. "That's not what I meant."

"I don't want to talk about this." She shut him down. "Not today. This is your day." Her face broke into a smile. "I'm really happy for you, Peter. You and Emma are a beautiful together."

"Thank you," he grinned, unable to contain his happiness. "I hope I can a chance to see you walk down the aisle one day."

She let out a full laugh this time. "Don't hold your breath." He raised an eyebrow. "Guys aren't exactly lining up to date someone who can snap her broken bones back in place."

"I think you should put that on your dating profile."

Her smile grew, as she shook her head. They had the strangest sense of humor. "You better get back up there, before Angela comes over here." She waved over at her grandmother, who was peering at them over her champagne flute. "I already deal with one overbearing relative. I don't want to have to overdo it."

"No wonder you never come by to visit," he agreed. He enveloped her in a hug before, stepping back. "Save me a dance later, ok?"

"You got it."

Peter walked back past everyone, returning to his new bride's side. Claire watched him bend down to kiss her lightly on her cheek. Emma was practically glowing. Her smile hadn't faltered once all day.

Once again, Claire felt the pang of solitude. Amanda and Micah had both offered to come with her to the wedding. She had seriously considered their offer for weeks, as she determined what to wear and how to get there. Her pickup truck wasn't the best vehicle for New York City. In the end she had insisted on attending alone. She dug into her inheritance for a flight and cab fare. Now, she regretted not having her friends with her. The loneliness she felt wasn't only from being alone in the ballroom. She did want a relationship.

Her failed attempts at a romance with West and Gretchen were short and limited. She was still a virgin, never having made a deep enough connection to allow herself to go further than a handsy make-out session. Her lack of experience in the romance department made her wary about starting any kind of attachment beyond friendship. Moving around and keeping busy with her chores distracted her enough not to worry about it too often.

Her trust issues ran deep, stemming from both sets of parents and her run-ins with other Specials. It had prevented her from opening up to new people at college and had restricted her from making friends at the carnival until Amanda had learned she could sing.

Claire had been showering in her trailer. She had left the door unlocked because she was expected Amanda over for a movie. It was a rare treat that they got a night off and the week had been long, so both girls had agreed to rent a movie and eat junk food. While she had been scrubbing the dirt and sweat off of her skin, she started singing country tunes to herself. A few sons in, she heard the bathroom door swing open.

"You have been holding out on me, lady!" Amanda had cried.

"Oh my God!" Claire had shrieked, turning the water off and grabbing a towel. She had promptly ushered Amanda out of the bathroom until she was changed.

The movie had become a forgotten novelty. Her fire-starting friend had gone off, talking about how much everyone enjoyed music and how long it had been since they had had a campfire with stories and songs. "It used to be a tradition we had hear when Joseph was with us." Amanda had explained. "Now we can do it again."

"Wait," Claire had held her hand up. "I didn't agree to this."

"Sure you did, when you moved in with all of us."

"No. No where in any fine print did I see 'singing songs and telling stories' indicated."

"We take care of our own here."

"So?"

Amanda had rolled her eyes, shoving Claire. "So, everyone needs some entertainment, a tradition to keep us together. This is it!"

After more convincing, Claire had relented. She agreed to sing a song or two a night at a campfire to help the kids calm down and get ready for bed. At first, only a few of the smaller children came by, but after about a month, nearly everyone at the carnival was showing up. That year for her birthday, Edgar bought her a guitar and soon one to two songs became a half hour or more of singing before bedtime.

It was therapeutic. It provided her the connection she longed for, without any romantic entanglements. Surprisingly, she discovered she was very good with kids. The younger ones tended to sit at her feet or aside of her, while the older ones and the teenagers tried to feign indifference, but ultimately came to her for advice with their parents or to ask her to help them with homework and chores. In the end, Amanda had been right. The tradition brought everyone together. It was the first time Claire had felt she belonged. Though her real family was far away, the carnival had become her new family, loving and caring for her in a way she had needed.

What she needed was to get back to them, back to where things made sense and she felt safe. There was one more thing she needed to do first. She searched through the crowded room to find her uncle. He was out on the dance floor, looking foolish, but happy. Avoiding her father, she maneuvered around the other guests to Peter's side.

"Can I cut in?"

Peter smiled, turning around to hold her, as they danced across the floor. "Are you leaving?"

"Soon," she nodded.

"Back to the carnival?"

"It's home."

He nodded with a grin. "Tell Tracy and Micah I say. And the others, of course."

"I will." She knew Tracy and Micah would be happy to hear from him. Peter was well-liked amongst the carnival family. Some had even suggested he become their new leader. He was an empath, as Joseph had been, but Peter wasn't prepared to leave his life in New York City or Emma.

"Have you found more Specials?"

"A few. It's not exactly the first thing that comes up in conversation."

"True."

"For those who pick up on how certain tricks are done or who wins at our games, we can usually tell. It's a safe haven. Not the new world I imagined, but it's a world where everyone like us is protected. No one has to be fearful or judged."

"Gabriel should go live there."

"Sylar?" She raised an eyebrow, hating how her uncle called the murderer by his birth name so casually.

"He's changed, Claire." If she had a dollar for every time Peter had told her that over the years, she wouldn't need Nathan's inheritance.

"If you say so," she muttered.

"Come on," he pushed. "Are you saying if he wanted to come live at the carnival you wouldn't allow him to?"

"That's not going to happen."

"But if it did."

Claire paused. At the carnival, they lived by a code. We take care of our own. They had been taking in Specials years before Claire was even born. In the past, they had accepted refugees and characters she would normally shy away from. Edgar and Eli had been arrested before. Doyle, from Level 5, had tried to kill her and both her moms. Eric had been homeless, living in the park. People from all walks of life, with all kinds of backgrounds had made the carnival their home. Everyone had accepted everyone else, despite any flaws or past history. After all, at their core, they were all only human.

"I suppose we'd have to. It's in our code." She relented. "But that will never happen."

"Right." Peter nodded, the wheels in his head turning. "It's very unlikely."

* * *

_A/N: Thank you to those who read and enjoyed enough to leave a review for the story! I appreciate the feedback._


	3. Shot in the Dark

**Chapter Three: Shot in the Dark  
**

"_A shot in the dark. A past lost in space. Where do I start? The past and the chase. You hunted me down l__ike a wolf, a predator__. I felt like a deer in the lights." - David Guetta feat. Sia_

The flight from New York to Boise, Idaho was uneventful, but longer than anticipated. The flight was delayed due to engine complications and all the passengers unloaded and redirected to another flight. Three hours past the scheduled departure time, they were up in the air. Claire Bennet was accustomed to being adaptable, but after the emotional rollercoaster of her uncle's wedding, she longed to be back home with her chosen family, away from the chaos of the life she had purposely left behind. Once the plane was up in the air, it gave her time to digest what had happened.

Her thoughts centered on Sylar. _I__'__m not that person anymore. I can prove it. Just give me a chance._ He seemed sincere, well as sincere as any serial killer could be. She leaned her head back onto her seat, glancing out the window, as they ascended above the clouds. She missed flying. Peter had taken her a few times and Nathan as well. It had been different flying with each of them. And then there was how West had flown. She unconsciously found herself rolling her eyes at the thought of her short-term relationship with the high-school boy. He'd probably freeze if he was ever confronted with Sylar. For some reason that thought was amusing and she found herself smiling.

It was true that Sylar had never lied to her. She tried to keep that fact in mind. The last five years, he had been nothing but a close friend to both Peter and his new wife, Emma. Her uncle had told her briefly that he held a job and remained in touch with many of their "special" acquaintances, helping them whenever he could. It seemed surreal, almost like a prolonged April Fool's joke, but Peter rarely joked. There had been no indication of Sylar abusing his powers. Even when Noah had confronted him on the roof, he had simply walked away.

That was not what the old Sylar would have done. The Sylar she knew would have tossed him aside with the flick of a finger and quite possibly would have killed him right in front of her, just to watch her face contort in horror. He wouldn't have even flinched. He would have gone back to their conversation as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. But the man she had met on the roof wasn't the old Sylar. He still had the same snarky attitude, deriving pleasure from making her uncomfortable, but he wasn't inflicting pain or extracting powers.

Her gut instinct was to trust him. It was a struggle. He had killed. He had hurt people she loved, taken both her parents from her, caused so much pain and destruction. _So has Dad_, she thought bitterly recalling how her father had tried to force her to stay in the city. Noah Bennet was no saint. His lies, violent nature, and manipulation had taken several lives as well. Though he had often blamed Sylar, his own deception was the sole reason Sandra had requested the divorce, diving their family permanently.

Even now it bothered Claire to remember how the house had been boxed up, items separated into two main piles of cardboard towers. She kept her face turned toward the window, feeling a stray tear slide down her face. Her family had always been safe, a sacred place that was normal, or at least attempted to be normal. After the divorce, the last shred of her pre-ability life, her childhood, was gone. She shifted in her seat, trying to ignore those memories. They were more painful than others she had been forced to endure.

She had tried to rebuild a safe place at college with Gretchen and the girls from the sorority, but it wasn't the same. In the end, the family she had created with the residents at the carnival was the closest she had come. It meant a great deal to her. She was thankful to be returning. The thought of being back with her friends soothed her. She knew they would want to know all about her trip. She wondered what details she should share.

The flight attendants began to hand out snacks and bottles of water. She declined, preferring to watch out the window as they moved through the clouds. At some point she drifted off to sleep.

_Claire was sitting at the table in the backroom of Doyle's Marionette Theater in Costa Verde. Her mom and Meredith were there, sitting across from her. A gun was in her hand and she was pointing it at her biological mother. She could feel Doyle behind her, watching, coaxing her to shoot one of her mothers. Being forced to play Russian Roulette with her family members had been one of her worst memories. _

_Her hand was shaking, but her arm moved on it's own, being directed by the puppet master. Back and forth she went between the two. She tried moving against the hold he held over her. Her muscles wouldn't obey. Tears were streaming down her face. Her arm hurt from the conflicting orders. She was aiming for her mom now. Then back to Meredith. The ping-pong effect was terrifying. _

"_Stop it! Stop!" She heard herself screaming. Doyle looked at her with little emotion, obviously enjoying his total control of the situation. _

_Up to this point, everything was the same as it had been in real life. Her fear, her pain, her disappointment in herself as she realized she couldn't save anyone. She had failed Meredith and her mother by coming here and dragging them both into her reckless plan to capture Doyle. Now one of them would pay the ultimate price for her hasty decision. _

_Then the mood shifted. The lights in the backroom flickered. Doyle glanced up, looking around, the overly pleased smirk on his face vanishing. His smugness was now replaced by fear. Claire's arm was still shaking, still in pain. She was able to turn her head slightly. That's when she saw him. Sylar._

_Doyle had already raised his arms. His hold on Claire, Meredith, and Sandra began to slip away as he focused all his energy on the serial killer. The cheerleader took advantage of it, immediately jumping up from her seat to check on the older women. They were just as shaken up as her, but otherwise unharmed. She forced them both to their feet. _

_Off to the side, the two men were glaring at each other with intensity, as if locked in a serious staring contest. Claire couldn't decipher if either was winning. She knew better than to wait around and see who the victor turned out to be. She pushed Meredith and Sandra towards the fire exit, directing them outside. She moved to follow them, but paused in the doorway, hesitating. _

"_You really think that you can control me?" Sylar was hissing at the puppet master._

_Claire watched blood seep from Doyle's nose, as he crumbled to the floor. She glanced over at Sylar, who was watching her. He didn't move in her direction or Doyle's. His mouth twitched, as if he wanted to say something. Just as he opened his mouth, she heard her father calling her. She pivoted around, watching Noah burst through the door, gun at the ready. Meredith came in right behind him, flames dancing up from her hands. Noticing Doyle was incapacitated, her dad pulled her into a hug. _

"_Thank God, you're alright. What were you thinking? You could have gotten your mother killed!"_

_Ignoring her father's accusatory tone, she glanced over his shoulder where Sylar had been standing. There was nothing there, no shred of proof that the man who had haunted her nightmares for so many months had been in the same room. He had saved her life. Claire wanted to know why. To what purpose was his sudden hero act? How had he known where she was? Why bother to save her and her family at all? Why hadn't he killed Doyle? The questions swirled around in her head. _

_She could hear his voice repeating over and over again the same words. _I'm not that person anymore. I can prove it. Just give me a chance. _The words got faster and louder. She felt as if she was spinning around, out of control, confused, lost, disoriented. The words became more desperate, as if he was begging for something. She backed up, putting her hands over her ears, but the inertia was too strong and she fell forward into darkness. _

Claire jumped in her seat, shaken awake by the plane landing. Her heart was racing in her chest. She felt hot and cold at the same time, as her mind frantically tried to wrap around what she had just experienced. She sat up straight, trying to rid those images from her brain. Her head felt electrified and her stomach was still doing somersaults, as if it had all really happened. It was only a dream, or at least that was what she told herself, despite how real each of the moments had felt.

The plan pulled up to the airport. Passengers rushed to gather their belongings and hurry off. She watched them all, taking in their frustrations and worries to avoid dealing with her own. Claire waited until they were all done, before unbuckling and leaving her seat. She needed the extra time to rid herself of the anxiety she was experiencing. She decided to blame the dream on her constantly flow of teenage hormones.

Claire was happy to see Tracy when she rolled her carry-on bag out of the airport. It was the first sign of home and the perfect distraction. She released a breath she hadn't realized she had been holding. Tracy gave her a stunning smile and a wave, before popping the tiny trunk of the vehicle. Eli had retrieved her a red convertible a few months earlier. Tracy was more than happy to take it out for a spin any chance she got.

"Hey!" Tracy pulled her into a tight, quick hug.

"Hi." Claire returned the hug. "Thanks for picking me up."

"Of course. Any reason to take this baby out for a spin," Tracy grinned, running her hand down the side of the cherry red car. "So, how was it?"

"Well, my dad was there." Claire gave Tracy a look.

The older blonde laughed. "And?"

Claire scrunched up her face and altered her voice in her best impersonation of her adoptive father. "I'm doing this to keep you safe. I'm only trying to protect you."

"Nothing ever changes."

"No," Claire shook her head as she put her luggage in the trunk. "Noah Bennet never changes."

"He is your father."

Claire shut the trunk with force. "He lied to me."

"Everyone lies, Claire. It's human nature."

Human. Claire shook her head. She both loved and hated that word. Human meant normal, it meant a life with certain restrictions in order to show the value of what limited freedom they had. It also meant the difference between her and 99.5% of the rest of the planet's inhabitants, because though she was technically human, she would live beyond the rest of humanity. She would never feel pain. She would never age. She would never be normal. There were no limitations to her life.

"He had good intentions, at least," Tracy insisted.

"The road to hell is paved with good intentions."

"Oh hunny," Tracy laughed, "Don't preach to me. I worked on Capitol Hill. Where do you think the road to hell leads?"

Claire grinned, as she got into the passenger's seat. One of the reasons she enjoyed Tracy's company so much was because the woman never talked down to her. Tracy told it like it was. She didn't bother to sugar coat things. Claire looked up to Tracy. The older blonde was a strong woman. She had managed to work with Nathan and survive his attempt to corral all the Specials up. After realizing how the world had changed, she had forsaken the life she had built for herself and created a new one at the carnival. Though Claire was surprised she had paired up with Eli, she supposed Tracy was wise enough to make her own choices when it came to men.

Tracy sat down in the driver's seat, slamming the door shut. "Ready to go home?"

"Absolutely!"

The convertible took off for the highway. As they pulled away from the busy airport, Claire felt her nerves disperse like the crowds. Boise wasn't a large city in comparison to New York City, but it was still bigger than the carnival wanted to attract. After the stunt Samuel had pulled in Central Park, the family had decided to choose more remote locations. About thirty miles outside the Boise city limits, the carnival had set-up in a small town called Adrian, near Snake River.

While they drove along the highway, Tracy and Claire remained quite. The wind made it difficult to hold a conversation, but Claire didn't mind. This was as close to flying, without a plane, as she got. She had reminded Peter on a number of occasions how much she wished he would keep the ability to fly. If she could have chosen, it was the one she would have picked for herself. Though immortality seemed to be everyone's favorite, she understood it to be more of a curse than a gift. It wasn't freedom. Flying was as close to freedom as she would ever get. Without Nathan, Peter, or West around, that small escape had been taken from her. The convertible was a replacement, even if it was a poor one.

As they passed shopping centers and strip malls, she noticed a Japanese steak house. "Damn," she snapped.

"What's wrong?" Tracy shouted over the wind.

"I forgot to thank Hiro. It was the first time I've seen him since he brought me to the carnival and I forgot to say thank you."

Tracy shrugged. "Send him an email."

"This isn't an email kind of thing."

"Postcard?"

Claire smiled, as she shook her head, staring out at the passing scenery. They fell into silence again. The homes began to spread out. Fewer shops and business popped up. After a few more minutes, a sign for Adrian caught her eye. She watched, expectantly as the lights and sounds of the carnival began to break through the horizon, as night fell. _Home_, she thought to herself. Any lingering nerves vanished as she saw the tent tops and familiar signage.

Tracy maneuvered through a few people walking up to the carnival from the town, to an area in the back where the residents kept their personal vehicles. There weren't many. Most had transportation and living quarters in the same vehicle. By the time, Tracy had put the convertible in park, Claire was bombarded by Amanda and Micah.

"Claire, you're back!" Amanda practically jumped on her, as she tried to get out of her seat.

"Jeez, give her room to breathe."

"Shut up, Micah!"

Lyle and Claire had fought, but Micah and Amanda never stopped it seemed. They were the siblings she had always wanted. They were there for her day in and day out. They knew about her ability, accepted it, and loved her despite it. They constantly caused her to laugh and at the same time gave her a headache but she loved them anyway.

"I missed you two," she greeted them, hugged Amanda with her left arm and Micah with her right arm. "I'm surprised you didn't kill each other while I was gone."

"Please, she couldn't even boil water."

"There's no point in killing him. He never leaves his trailer. He could be electrocuted and no one would notice until his rotting corpse began to stink."

Claire smiled to herself as she went to the trunk to grab her belongings. Tracy was already there, giving her a knowing smirk. "And you came back for this?"

"Home sweet home," Claire confirmed with a grin.

Tracy gave her a one-armed hug. "Glad you're back. I'll see you at dinner, alright? I need to find Eli. He said he needs to talk to me about something important."

"A ring?"

"Don't even say it." Tracy made a face. "Dinner?"

"Save me a seat," Claire agreed. "I might still be unpacking."

"You were only gone for two days." Micah reminded her.

"A girl after my own heart." Tracy mused, giving Claire a wink before she walked away.

Claire reached for her bag, but Micah had already begun carrying it towards her trailer. "How was it?"

"Was the wedding gorgeous?" Amanda asked. "I bet your grandmother spared no expense."

"Does she ever?" Claire muttered, wondering how Angela Petrelli would take the news if she told her she wasn't allowed to plan anything for her wedding. _Not that that__'__s ever going to happen_, Claire thought. Even if it did, she wouldn't be having it in New York City, which was probably sacrilegious to Angela.

"How was Peter?"

"Giddy."

"Was anyone else there?" Micah queried. He kept tabs on everyone digitally. He had given up the Rebel cause to the extent he had previously, but he had never stopped looking out for Specials, even those who were currently safe.

"Matt Parkman, Ando and Hiro, Mohinder," Claire rattled off. "And my dad."

Amanda and Micah exchanged a look. "How was that?" her friend asked, moving in front of Micah to open the trailer door for Claire.

"About as painful as I expected it to be."

Micah set the suitcase down near Claire's bed, before joining her and Amanda at her mini kitchen table. "Was he mad?"

"Of course he was mad!" Amanda cried. "He's Noah Bennet, permanently mad, overly dramatic, manipulative, Company-man." Claire found herself laughing at Amanda's description.

"He's overly dramatic?" Micah asked, sarcastically hinting. The fire-starter reached across the table to swat him. "You're just proving my point." Shaking his head with a wide grin, he turned back to Claire. He opened his mouth to ask another question, when a knock at the trailer door caused him to answer it instead.

Edgar came in. "Claire," he nodded to her. She rose from her seat going over to receive another welcoming embrace. "Glad to have you back." Edgar released her from his hug. He noted Amanda and Micah and shifted uncomfortably in his spot. "I realize you're settling in, but I need you to come to the main tent."

"Now?" Amanda cried. "We were catching up."

Edgar's face was stern. "We're holding council. It's important."

Claire understood that look. Council normally only happened during the first of the month to discuss matters of the family and business. Only Edgar, Eli, Tracy, and a few other senior members of the family were present at those meetings. To have an unscheduled meeting tonight meant an emergency topic had surfaced. "What happened while I was in New York?"

"Nothing. It's what's happened now that you're back."

She raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"Someone is here for you."

Claire groaned. "I don't want to see my father." She rolled her eyes and turned away from Edgar. She moved across the trailer, bending down over her suitcase to put away a stack of clothes. "I thought we already covered that." She was enraged at the idea of her father following her here. He had never been one to follow the rules, but she thought he would have at least granted her the benefit of twenty-four hours before trying to shove "his way" down her throat again.

"It's not Bennet."

"She just got back!" Amanda whined. "Spill the beans, Edgar! Who is it?"

He didn't answer right away. His silence was a dead giveaway.

Claire froze. Suddenly the nerves she had experienced earlier on the plane came back. Being back home had consoled her, but she could feel the change now. There was something different in the air around the carnival. Something that was causing their leader to be over cautious and cryptic. She slowly turned back around to face him. Edgar sighed, before confirming her instinct.

"Sylar."

* * *

_Stupid meddling Petrelli__'__s_, Gabriel thought bitterly, as he sat in the main tent of the carnival, waiting. _Always thinking they know best. _

Edgar had not been happy to see him when he had arrived at the front entrance. He hadn't exactly been expecting a warm reception, considering the terms under which he had left. However, he thought the sword-weilding speedster would have given up holding grudges against his own kind. The new leader of the carnival had told him to remain in the tent, under the watchful eyes of "Mr. Multiples", or as the others knew him, Eli.

Gabriel knew where Edgar had gone. It was plain to see. Even without Parkman's ability, he could tell Edgar was reporting his presence to Claire Bennet. If he had been surprised by the coldness Edgar had exhibited, he was sure he was in for a similar response from the ex-cheerleader. She certainly hadn't warmed up to him when he had offered to share his Pinot with her. He was wondering if being here was a good idea. Peter and Angela Petrelli's words came back to him.

"_This is perfect, Gabe! She can't turn you away if you show up there." Peter was saying, overly confident. "The carnival takes care of their own. If you become one of them, she'll have to like you." Gabriel knew part of it was the wedding high and another part of it was the flutes of champagne Peter had indulged in. _

"_Perfect is a stretch." He informed his friend. "This is a shot in the dark."_

"_I agree with Peter. You should go." Angela announced, surprising both men. She poured herself a cup of tea from the dessert table, stirring in a dollop of honey before raising her eyes to meet his. _

"_Excuse me?" _

"_Claire will come around. She's stubborn, strong-willed, but not unforgiving. Noah is a prime example of that." Peter nodded at his mother's words, before spotting Emma on the dance floor and taking off in her direction. He left his best man alone with his mother. It was not the place Gabriel wanted to be. _

"_Maybe. In a century or so." _

"_You don't have a century." _

"_I have eternity." He responded, deflated. Eternity was more of a punishment than a gift. He wished the Pinot would start to work, but his healing abilities had already transformed his liver. The affects of alcohol would hold no power tonight. He dropped his eyes, bored with the pointless conversation. _

"_Claire will need you."_

"_She needs me to leave her alone." _

_Angela grabbed his wrist, forcing him to look her in the eyes. "Listen to me. Claire's life is in danger. I've seen it. You need to be there. You're the only one of us that can save her." _

_His attention snapped back to the Petrelli matriarch. "Claire's the Indestructible Girl. She can't die." _

"_I think we both know there are ways around that." _

_He understood her ability and had seen the consequences of listening and not listening to her warnings. As much as he wanted to tell her off, he felt compelled to listen. He wanted details. He needed to find a way to stop whatever vision Angela had had. "What have you seen?" _

"_That's not important, Gabriel." He was taken back by the use of his birth name. She always called him Sylar. "What is important is for you to go to the carnival. Everything else will fall into place." She sensed his hesitation, but didn't offer anything else. She removed the tea bag from her cup, tossing it away as effortlessly as she spun lies. He was uneasy. However, he couldn't tell if his unease was stemming from Angela's prediction or his misgivings toward the woman. _

"_How can I trust you?"_

_She grinned. "You can't, but I have a feeling that isn't going to stop you." She took a long sip of her tea, eyes still focused on him, while he mulled over his options. After a moment, he began walking away. "Have a safe flight, Gabriel. Give Claire a hug for me." _

His memory was interrupted when Edgar reentered the tent, along with Tracy and a few other carnies Gabriel didn't recognize. There was a red-haired woman who was standing close to a raven-haired man with glasses. Noting the humble bands on their left hands, he pegged them as husband and wife. There was another man, as well. Older and alone, but he seemed to hold himself with authority, the same way Edgar did. They all stood there, taking him in, as he sat on a crate in the center of the main ring. Under the lights, it was oddly reminiscent of the interrogation room he had been in when he woke up with no memory of who he was.

Claire walked into the tent, trying to avoid looking at him. She stood next to the red-hair woman, who gave her a warm smile and reached over to squeeze her hand. The small, blonde smiled back, but appeared uncomfortable.

"Normally we don't vote on a new resident." Edgar stated. "However, given your past indiscretions, it seems only appropriate to put your request to a vote."

"I'm not asking to stay permanently," Gabriel reminded him. "Think of it as a vacation."

"Right." Edgar's tone said he didn't believe Gabriel. Claire looked up. He could tell he had her interest. She was probably hoping he would stay for a day or two and be off. Since Angela hadn't been able to pinpoint a timeframe for the alleged attack against her grand-daughter, he wasn't sure how long his vacation would last.

"Even so, we have agreed to put it to a vote." He turned to Mr. Multiples and began circling Gabriel. "Eli?"

"Against."

"I agree." The leader turned to the couple behind him. "Alicia?"

"For."

Edgar didn't seemed surprised by her answer. Gabriel was. He didn't know the woman, but she seemed fairly confident in her choice. She hadn't hesitated and her voice was even. Instantly, he liked her. Whether she was aware or not, she had just given him a chance. It was an opportunity to prove himself to Claire, follow through on the promise he had made to himself and her, and potentially save her life.

"George?"

"For."

"Tracy."

"For."

"Ernie?"

"Against," the older man replied, sighing out the answer as if he had been holding it in.

"Three to three." Edgar gave Gabriel an unpleasant look. His hand was twitching. Gabriel imagined he wanted to go for his knives. It would be an easier treatment than waiting while people who didn't know him decided his fate and ultimately Claire's. He let his hands drop between his knees, as he exhaled.

"I had a feeling it would come to this." The carnival leader turned around, walking back to the group. "Claire."

Gabriel's head snapped up.

She was examining him. It was the first time he could recall seeing her look at him as if he was a person, not a monster. Her gaze wasn't particularly friendly or warm, but it wasn't filled with the seething hate it normally held. There was anger, yes, but along with that anger was confusion, curiosity, and even a hint of intrigue. If he had ever wanted Parkman's power, it was in this very moment he desired it the most. Her eyes were searching his face, carefully directing each crease, every muscle movement.

Whatever she was looking for, she discovered it. She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. He noticed how Alicia moved to squeeze her hand again, reassuringly. When Claire opened her eyes, she stared right into his. All the emotions that had been swirling around had vanished. Her walls were up again. He felt his heart drop into his stomach.

Her voice was barely audible, but he heard her clear as day. As soon as she spoke, she turned on her heel and left the tent.

"For."

* * *

_**A/N: Thank you for those who are reading this and have left reviews. I'm glad someone is taking an interest.** _


	4. Letting Go

**Chapter Four: Letting Go**

"_You never go__. __You__'__re always here, suffocating me, u__nder my skin__. I cannot run away. Fading slowly, I__'__d give it all to you letting go of me.__"__\- Red_

Claire Bennet felt shaky as she exited the main tent. Though she could no longer feel pain, she recalled how Elle's electrical currents felt when they passed through her body. The way she felt now was similar. It wasn't painful, just annoying.

She should have known her uncle would push Sylar onto her. Peter liked to think he knew what was best for everyone. She remembered how interested he had been in the carnival while they danced at his reception. That should have tipped her off. She had been so focused on being happy for him, she wasn't able to dodge his obvious attempt to force her into being nice to his old roommate. _Typical Petrelli. Always meddling_, she thought to herself.

Amanda was sitting on the steps of her trailer with the door open, waiting for her. Claire wasn't surprised. The younger blonde loved drama. The way Edgar had announced their new guest was just the type of "did-you-know" information she liked to have ready to share. Claire could almost hear her friend's squeal of delight as she pictured how she would be at breakfast the next morning, telling everyone.

"What happened? Is he staying? Did Edgar cut him? What did Eli do?"

Claire ushered her friend inside the safe confines of the trailer. Amanda was still shooting off questions. Claire found herself wishing alcohol could affect her. She wanted to numb the jittery sensation that was running up and down her limbs. When he had been sitting there looking at all of them, he had seemed calm, confident. It wasn't the confidence of a killer, stalking his prey. The look he had painted on his face was more pensive. He had a purpose, but it was hidden, guarded.

The moment he noticed she was in the tent, his face had altered. It was less guarded, less confident. If she didn't know him, she would have thought he was scared. There was a clear level of shock and uneasy to his appearance for a split second. It was brief, barely noticeable, except to her.

He had been haunting her dreams, causing her many restless nights for years. The initial attack that had taken Jackie's life was forever etched into her memory, as well as the following deaths. Since that night at her former high school, she had always lived with the fear of him destroying her and discarding her the way he had Jackie. In a way, he had already destroyed her. By taking her power and removing her ability to feel pain, he had caused her to feel more isolated. if she had considered herself a freak before, now she was a super freak.

"Claire?" Her eyes focused on Amanda. Her friend was sitting expectantly at the table, leaning forward. Her interest was peaked. "Details, girl. Spill!"

The ex-cheerleader sat down across from her with a sigh. "What do you want to know?"

"Everything! Why is he here? What does he want? Did he come back with you from New York? What did you do when you saw him at the wedding? He was at the wedding, right? Does your dad know he is here? I bet your father will blow when he finds out that he's living at the carnival with you."

"With me?"

"You know what I mean. So spill!"

"I don't know what he is doing here. He didn't come with me, clearly," she snapped, rolling her eyes. She was annoyed at the thought of being the reason the psychopath had invaded. "And if my dad knew he was here, he'd be here too."

"True," her friend nodded. "Wait, did you talk to him at the wedding?"

"There was a moment on the roof."

"Oh my God," Amanda squealed, oblivious to Claire's agitated nature. "I knew it! I knew it!"

"Amanda," Claire began rubbing her hand through her hair, trying to get a hold of her emotions. "It didn't mean anything. I went up there to escape my father and he was up there for some reason. Not exactly the moment you are envisioning."

"No. My mom told me that you were the one."

Claire dropped her hand, staring at her friend. "What? What did you say?"

The younger blonde smiled. "My mom could see people's desires." Claire nodded. She was well aware of Lydia's powers and her methods for using them. "When Sylar was here the first time, Samuel was trying to trigger him, trying to manipulate him into his own personal attack dog. My mom saw it right away. What Samuel wasn't prepared for was Sylar's identify crisis. He didn't know who he was when he got here. He didn't know about his powers and when they started coming out on their own, he was afraid." Claire found herself leaning forward, more interested in the facts Amanda was now providing than anything else she had heard today.

"Samuel wanted my mom to mold him. She had her charm, could easily turn any man into her plaything, so returning him to his former self should have been simple. But he had lost his way. The only thing preventing him from discovering his true self was his deepest desire." Amanda paused for a moment. "You. When he was touched by the ink, it showed him you." Claire pushed herself back in her seat, until her spine was flush against the cushion. Amanda's voice was not uppity and high-pitched like normal. She was serious now, dead serious. "You were what he needed back then and I think he still needs you now."

"He came to see me at college. He showed me that tattoo."

Amanda nodded. "You told me. I bet the tattoo is still there." She took a breath, waiting, as if trying to judge how ready her friend was to hear more. "Claire, people aren't always what we want them to be or think they should be." When the ex-cheerleader didn't respond, she added. "We've all done things we're ashamed of or wish we could take back. All we have is here and now."

They sat in silence for several minutes, Claire digesting what she had just heard. After several long moments, her friend came forward to give her a hug, then let herself out.

After Amanda left, Claire locked her door and stripped down. She walked into her bathroom and switched on the shower. This was one of the sites where she could get a water hook-up. She planned on taking advantage of that now more than ever. Tossing her pile of clothes into her hamper, she pulled the small bathroom door shut behind her.

The water came running down, steam beginning to swirl at the ceiling. She stepped in, letting it cascade over her. The warmth caressed her. In a way it brought her serenity. It was in these peaceful, private moments she knew she could be herself. The last forty-eight hours had been a turbulent series of realizations, changes, and alterations to her life. She needed a release.

Tears came slowly at first, then more readily. She recalled how she had yelled at her father in the hospital, "You don't just get to say you're sorry and make everything go away." Those exact words expressed how she felt now. Her mind raced with the same questions Amanda had asked her. There had to be a darker purpose to why Sylar was here. If he truly wanted to prove himself to her, he should have stayed in New York, far away. All she wanted was to be left alone.

She didn't want it — any of it. Her old life hadn't been a life. During her years at the carnival she had realized what real family was, what real family did for each other. Though she missed Peter and the other Specials she had come to know, she didn't miss having to constantly save the world, fight 'The Company', or run and hide. She had given up her high school and college experience, stuck in an endless battle of trying to define what was wrong and what was right.

In the end she realized it wasn't so black and white. What was right for her may not have been right for someone else and she didn't have the authority to decide for anyone but herself. Her decision landed her with the carnival. Peter had stayed in New York. The others had remained where they had lived prior to their abilities affecting their lives. It made sense. People tended to gravitate toward their homes, to places they felt safe. Claire couldn't define where that was. For her, changing homes so many times over the course of a few years had terminated the definition of the word.

The tears continued to fall. She scrubbed at her skin, roughly. Sylar had taken so much from her already. What reason could he have for penetrating her world again? Her nails raked through her hair, working to get out all the dirt and grease from the day. No matter what she did, she felt as if she couldn't get clean enough. She couldn't erase the day.

Her thoughts conflicted between forgiving the man and hating the monster.

* * *

"Good luck finding a place to sleep tonight." Eli patted him on the back. The pat was more like a forceful shove, but Gabriel didn't take the bait. If Eli wanted to fight him, he'd have to try harder than a bit of force.

Gabriel left the tent the moment Edgar permitted him. His intent was to find Claire. She was the only reason he was in this backwater town, being observed like some sort of common criminal. _Because I__'__m not a common criminal. I__'__m a psychotic, ex-serial killer trying to save the day and get the girl_, he thought to himself sarcastically. He realized how ridiculous it sounded when he put it all together. No wonder they were all staring at him as if he had come back from the dead. They were probably hoping he was, or wishing he had never returned.

He shoved his hands into his jean pocket, strolling down aisle after aisle. The carnival hadn't changed since he had visited it. The stands, games, and signage were all the same. Faded, older, and a bit beat up, but it all appeared the same as it had years ago.

"Hey," the teenager said. "I thought I'd find you here."

"Rebel?" He made a face and Gabriel tried again. "Micah, right?"

"Yeah," the kid nodded. "How's it going?"

"Alright." His eyes returned to the trailer, staring at the door as if he expected her to open it at any moment. He wasn't sure what he'd say if she did.

Sensing his thoughts, Micah cleared his throat. "So, um, do you need a place to crash?"

Gabriel blinked, his eyes refocusing on the teen. "What?"

"I figured Edgar and Eli wouldn't let you shack up with them," he shrugged. "My trailer's a bit of a mess, but there's an extra bunk if you want it."

"Why would you offer it to me?"

"You didn't kill me." Micah reminded him. "I figure that was a big deal for you back then, before…" he trailed off as soon as he realized what he was saying. "Anyway, I wanted to say thank you, but there wasn't anything I could do back then."

Gabriel didn't answer at first. He was watching the Claire's trailer again. The lights were on. He knew she was in there. He tried to imagine what she was doing or what she was thinking about. He was fairly certain a portion of it was centered on him. She hadn't been expecting him. Clearly, she thought her last encounter with him would be at her uncle's wedding. It wasn't the welcoming he had hoped for.

"Sylar?"

"It's Gabriel," he corrected, automatically.

"Really?"

"Where is your place?"

Micah pointed to the left. "Over this way. I'll show you."

The trailer wasn't as nice as Claire's appeared to be, but the amount of hi-tech gadgets inside made up for what the mobile home lacked. Monitors, hard drives, and wires were everywhere, including the second bunk, which Micah was desperately trying to clear off for him. Gabriel took inventory of the massive mess, wondering how the kid could even move inside his own home.

"Uh, yeah," the teen was rubbing the back of his neck, nervously. "Like I said, it's not much, but it serves it's purpose."

"Thank you."

"No bag, huh?"

Gabriel hadn't bothered to pack belongings or clothes from his apartment. Knowing he could teleport back in order to use the shower and facilities was a nice luxury. "No need," he said.

"So," Micah sat down at the wall of monitors, spinning in his swivel chair, "How long are you staying?"

"As long as it takes."

"Intriguing. Do you want to see what I do here?" He began going on and on about hooking up servers and hacking into government energy to have the carnival up and running. There was a mention about security and scouting locations too, but after the tenth use of the word "code", Gabriel's interest tapered off.

He laid down on the bunk, Micah had given him, staring up at the ceiling. He thought of the first time he met Claire. She had surprised him, attempting to save her friend, while he cut her open and tried to find her power. He had tossed her across the room into the wall, as if she was no more than a rag doll. The moment she had risen to her feet, he realized his mistake. The plain human in his hold was nothing. Claire was the one he had been searching for.

If only he had understood how truly valuable she was. Once he had figured it out, he had chased her desperately. Forcing her to sit with him and drink wine, demanding her help as he attempted to resurrect himself. He had given her nothing but painful memories. He had never shown her who he was at his core. The shy, nervous watchmaker from New York City could have never even hoped to have gotten a smile from the cheerleader.

Now, powerful and successful, he still couldn't hope for that smile.

* * *

"Hi Mom."

"Claire?"

"Yeah, it's me."

"It's after midnight. Are you alright?"

"I know. I'm sorry. I just needed to talk to someone."

She heard Sandra rustling around on the other end of the line. "One sec, hun. I just need to go downstairs so I don't wake Doug up." There was more rustling, then the sound of her mother hurrying down some steps. "What's going on, Claire?"

The tone of her mother's voice was all-knowing. After years of living with Noah and having to hide secret after secret, Sandra had become quiet capable of picking up on certain vocal and physical cues.

Claire sighed, not entirely sure where to begin. "Sylar's here."

She heard her mother's quick intake of breath. After a moment of silence, she asked, "At the carnival?"

"Yep, my own personal nightmare, living right down the dirt road."

"But why?"

"Who knows?" Claire found herself shrugging, even though she knew her mother couldn't see her. "He just showed up tonight."

"Didn't you get back from the wedding today?"

"Actually tonight, my flight was delayed."

"Oh, Claire," her mother sighed, working up the right thing to say. "Do you know why he's there?"

"No," she admitted. "But I have a theory."

If Amanda was right, and she was the person he thought he was looking for, there would be no way of deterring him from his plan. The years had shown her that above all other things, he was determined. Once he had his mind set on accomplishing a task, he pursued it with everything he had. She hated to admit it, but he had a lot. His powers were unparalleled. He could kill them all, if he truly wanted to. But she didn't believe he would.

"He wants me to forgive him."

"I see."

Forgiveness was a concept everyone understood. The execution of it, however, was never as easy. Claire internal battle had continued to rage on after she finished her shower. She had laid in bed, tossing and turning, attempting to fall asleep. When sleep evaded her, she had gone for a walk through the carnival.

Her home, a place which had housed her for over five years, looked different now. Instead of bright colors and beautiful tapestries of the well-known acts, she saw chipped paint, ripped banners, and poorly patched tents. It was fitting, in a way, to see the decay. The weathering of time and it's affects on her home came as a reminder of how this place would also become a memory. She would linger on, as it faded into the past. And she would remain alone.

The walk failed to calm her nerves. It didn't provide her a solution to her inner turmoil. Her next line of defense was her mother. Unlike most moms that drove a mini-van, Sandra had been through nearly as many battles as Claire had. She may have not had an active role in all of them, but she had been the home base support Claire required in order to push through. When Claire had decided she was done with that life, Sandra had been her number one supporter of pulling out of college and relocating to live at the carnival.

Distance was a difficult factor. They made it work. Skype, cell phones, and even the occasional snail-mail postcard helped them keep in touch. Like Claire, Sandra didn't trust Angela Petrelli, but she did have a soft-spot for Peter. When Claire had heard there was an available apartment in the same complex as Peter and Emma, she had asked her mother to consider moving in their with the dogs and Doug. She knew Emma and Peter would protect Sandra, if anything were to ever happen.

"Can you forgive him, Claire?"

"I don't know how," she confessed. "How do you forgive someone who murdered both your parents?"

"The same way you forgive anyone for anything they've done wrong. You start with accepting what happened and move forward."

* * *

"Here is the file." The host handed over a manilla file folder with documentation on a Special named Claire Bennet. Date of birth, past living addresses, and known associates were listed on the first page, along with several pictures and surveillance images. "Tracking her down won't be easy."

"You don't pay me for easy," the man responded, flipping through the rest of the paperwork.

"Remember, you need to make this look like a petty crime."

"You want me to take her wallet, toss her place?"

"She's seventeen, attractive, naive —do the math."

"You play dirty."

"I play to win."

"And the end-game?"

"This one." The host produced a picture of a male Special in his late twenties, early thirties.

"What's his deal?"

"You don't want to know." The man scuffed, not believing. His host's voice came out sharp and cold. "You are under strict orders not to engage, under any circumstances. Is that clear?"

"Crystal." He got up from his seat and headed for the door.

"One more thing."

"Yeah?"

"To do this correctly, you need to hit her right here," the host pointed to a particular spot at the back of the head. "Otherwise, you'll fail."

"I don't fail." He stated and walked out.

"Let's hope for your sake that's true."

* * *

_**A/N: Thank you for the reviews I've received so far. I know Sylaire is not a major pairing, so I appreciate the feedback even more!**_


	5. Routine Symphony

**Chapter 5: Routine Symphony**

"_Now I know we said things, did things that we didn't mean and we fall back into the same patterns, same routine. But your temper's just as bad, as mine is, yo__u__'__re the same as me, but when it comes to love, you're just as blinded…maybe our relationship isn't as crazy as it seems. Maybe that's what happens when a tornado meets a volcano.__" __\- Eminem _

The following morning, Gabriel Gray sat alone on the edge of the carnival. The now familiar sounds of his brand new home played in the background of the silence which surrounded him. Parents yelling at their kids, kids laughing at the antics of the carnival residents, residents conversing about their day to day tasks —all the noises wove together into a predictable symphony. He barely heard any of it. His mind was focused on a problem he could not solve. Claire's hatred was understandable, even warranted. The actions he had taken on his quest to gain power and control had been merciless, single-minded, and successful. Once he had reached the ultimate goal, the need to prove himself had transitioned into an turbulent anxiety. He was powerful. He had control. He had eternity. But it all meant nothing once he had it.

The epiphany he had had in Parkman's mental prison had altered him irrevocably. He realized he would be in control of nothing, have power over nothing. His constitution was terminated. Set-back without a plan or purpose, he had gone through the motions of his former life. He reopened his watch shop in New York City and built up the business. Of course, the years he had spent in the mental prison weren't real to anyone but him and Peter. Though the others had come to accept him, Peter was the only one who fully comprehended what he had been through.

The void and loneliness had impacted him far deeper and much quicker than he ever would have ever anticipated. It increased his fear of not knowing himself, causing him to give up using his shape-shifting ability forever. He survived. Each day he got up, showered, dressed, had eggs and toast, then left for work. He would put in eight hours at the shop, usually consistently of tinkering on perfect watches, dusting, and hoping someone, anyone, would walk through the door. They never did. At 5pm on the dot, he would close up, returning home. Gabriel would cook himself dinner, read for an hour or two, and go to bed. Day and day out, he went through each task. Breathe in, breathe out. Home, work, home again. There was no alteration, no distraction. He ran as consistently as one of his clocks.

When Peter had arrived his mind couldn't fathom the drastic change. It had been to the point where he thought Peter was a dream or a hallucination. After he had acknowledged the fact Peter was real, the relief washed over him. He would not be alone in this prison.

Back in the real world, five or seven years later (depending on which reality one believed in) he found himself in much the same scenarios. Though Peter had moved out ages ago, Gabriel had never felt alone. Peter and Emma came to visit or he joined them out. He sometimes traveled to see Mohinder, Parkman, and Hiro as well. Since the wedding, he had felt isolated.

Peter and Emma were on their honeymoon. The others had returned to their lives across the world. And there he remained. The apartment had become both comforting and confining at the same time. He leaned back on the crates, his mind returning to Claire. Eternity alone was unbearable. He longed to make her understand that truth. H knew there was more than the eternal loneliness that made him want to reach her.

He ran a hand through his hair, thinking of his brief fling with Elle. Cringing as he recalled how he had been when he murdered her. Moments like that were the exact reason for Claire's distrust and disgust. The experience of having a connection with Elle had made him aware how he could be if he changed. At first, learning from her and protecting her had fulfilled him. The hunger was sated. Once the eclipse had concluded, he felt reborn, as if he was waking up from a deep slumber. The hunger returned and the connection faded into nothing.

Elle had played her part in turning him into the monster he had become. Part of him always was aware of that fact. That part wanted to punish her, destroy her for causing him to destroy so many lives, including his own. Ironically, giving not that meant destroying another life — hers. There had been no regret after it, not until years later. Elle had been impulsive, hell bent on proving herself to her father, and quick to blame others for her short-comings. Her fiery spirit had been attractive. She also shared many characteristics with him. He had come to realize he saw himself in her. Killing her had been, subconsciously, him killing himself.

Reflecting back on those moments was painful. He never wanted to think about his past. It was a constant reminder of how ultimately his powers had controlled him. The illusion of being all-powerful was that he thought he was in control. When his powers began to act on their own, he had seen the truth.

Gabriel wondered if there was ever a way to redeem one's self from such a life. Elle was one of many. In truth, he couldn't even name all of his past victims. He saw their faces at night. Some he knew. Some were stranger he had killed swiftly without a single thought. He could go back in time. That option had tempted him numerous times before. He had Hiro's ability, but Peter had warned him about the butterfly effect. He wasn't sure if there could be a worse version of himself. He was confident he never wanted to find out. Over the years, he had done other things, in an attempt to right the wrongs.

For starters, he had tracked down the families of his victims. Peter had assisted with that. He had persuaded Noah to provide contact information, claiming it was for a new charitable fund his mother was spearheading in Nathan's name. Gabriel had made a sizable, completely anonymous donation to each of the families. It paled in comparison to what he had taken from them. He didn't know what he could provide them with other than financial stability. At least they would have one less thing to worry about.

Once he had completed the entire list, he located Luke Campbell. The microwave emitting teenager had obtained a record and was being charged. Hardly surprising, considering he had idolized Gabriel for his ruthlessness and collected abilities. When he found Luke in lock-up, the boy had assumed he was there to free him. Instead, Gabriel had waited until his sentencing, standing for him when his mother didn't appear in the court room. He took responsibility for Luke and posted bail. He hired a lawyer, while they awaited the next steps. He counseled the teenager. It was a lengthy process.

Luke rejected the idea of not using his powers the way he chose to, which mostly was for personal gain. He laughed when Gabriel had asked him to use his birth name instead of Sylar. He fought his new mentor at every turn. After the better part of a year, Gabriel finally made a break through. He had Luke confront his father.

In the same way Gabriel had had to come to terms with his beginnings, Luke opened his eyes to the flaws in his father. Finding the same sins his dad was guilty of reflected in himself. The visit was brief, but effective. During their car ride away from Luke's father's house, the boy had been enraged, blaming Gabriel for pushing him to see the man. He had called Gabriel a manipulative bastard, among other things. Once all the cursing ending and the anger subsided, he cried. The plan had run it's course. Gabriel never said a word. The remainder of their return trip had been completed in silence.

The next day, Luke no longer had his walls up. They started a new chapter. Gabriel remained in touch with him. After serving three years, Luke had been released on good behavior. He was currently enrolled in a state college in Michigan for a chemistry degree. He had a part-time job at a fast food restaurant and lived with his second cousin, who owned the franchise. He was constantly impressed at how warm Luke's food stayed for his customers, a trait he could never understand, but appreciated. Luke had a couple more years to go in school, but he had made Dean's List last semester. Gabriel saw all of it as great progress. Luke's reformation was the most personal piece in his new quest for his own redesign.

The carnival need some upgrades. He had noticed the paint on the signs was peeling off in some areas. Banners were ripped from prolonged outdoor exposure. One or two of the tents had been patched and repotted in the same spot. Claire's RV was top of the line. He assumed Angela had a say in that. As for the other mobile homes, many required repair or a complete overhaul. His urge to fix all of the glaring errors forced him to move from his spot.

He sought out Edgar, understanding the chain of command that existed in this group. He found the leader in the residential part of the carnival layout. Many of the families with smaller children were gathered nearby. The blade wielding speedster had reserved a special glare just for him. When he noticed Gabriel approaching, his hand came to rest on the hilt of his knife.

"Edgar."

"What can I do for you, Sylar?"

"Gabriel, please."

"Fine. Gabe." The leader emphasized his name. It was clear he still wasn't pleased on how the voting had come down. "What can I do for you?"

"I was hoping it was more of what I could do for you." He started. Edgar gave him a confused, skeptical expression. Gabriel bent down to pick up a handful of stones from the earth. He closed his fist around them. Seconds later, when he unfolded his hand, all the stones were solid gold nuggets. Edgar looked up at him, then down at his open palm, and back up at his face.

"Nice trick."

"No trick. It's real. You can take it to any dealer and they will verify for you." He handed the gold over. "I want to help revitalize the carnival."

"What's wrong with it?" Edgar's friendly tone disappeared. Gabriel pointed out the spots he wanted to improve. He kept his tone neutral, seeing the pride Edgar had in his home. "I suppose a few medications are in order." He glanced over his shoulder. "Let me talk to Amanda and Eli."

"Thank you."

He wasn't sure how long the discussion would take. Micah had been asleep on his desk when Gabriel had woke in the morning. He wasn't sure when the teenager would awaken, so he opted to take a walk around the carnival. Having already conducted his inventory of the areas that needed work, he now sought out a place to be alone. Behind the main tent's banners, was a trunk. He assumed it was used to hold tools another elements needed around the section.

It served his purpose. He had found a nice quiet place to think. Instantly his mind centered on a certain cheerleader. Scenarios of how he could approach her after her decision last night ran through his head. He tried to piece together an acceptable 'thank you' or at least a gracious 'hello' but nothing seemed appropriate. Whatever he said to her had to be the right blend of acknowledgement for what she had done last night and apology for what he had done in the past.

Once his thought became too jumbled, he produced a paperback copy of _The Glass Menagerie_. Tennessee Williams had been one of his mother's favorite authors. She often the author's works to him while he was growing up. There were some parts of the play that he could quote by heart. As he opened up the thin book, he could see the creases and worn areas on some of the pages. It wasn't long before he was immersed in Tom's soliloquy.

* * *

Claire was lying in bed, watching the sun's rays filter in through the cracks in the blinds. She heard her mother's voice in head, _you start with accepting what happened and move forward_. She rolled over on her side, facing the wall. How could she accept what had happened?

She hadn't gone to breakfast and her stomach growled in protest as she laid there. Claire had been afraid he'd be waiting for her. She could picture him sitting at the row of picnic tables, a smug smile on his face. Voting in his favor had been both surprising and a relief. It showed her she was able to move forward, though she still held deep reservations about the man. Still, it was difficult to face the situation she had thrown herself into. Throughout her life, Claire often acted impulsively, doing things before she truly thought them through. This vote in Sylar's favor was another prime example of that.

Acceptance would not come easily. The desire to move forward gave her hope that she could learn to be kind to him, maybe even friendly at some point. Deep down she knew if she couldn't accept him, in the end, it would all lead back to anger, fighting, and ultimately hatred. She could work on both, but her mother had been correct. Acceptance was key.

Sighing, as her stomach rumbled loudly, she left the safety of her bed. She changed into jeans and a cami, throwing on a short-sleeved button up blouse on over top of it. Breakfast had been cleaned up over an hour ago, but she knew she could stop by one of the stands to grab a bite to eat.

"Morning, Claire," Alicia smiled warmly at her. "How are you?"

"Good. Sorry I didn't get a chance to stop by last night. I'm just tired from traveling. How are you, George, and Ryan doing?"

"Fine, we're all fine. Ryan's been asking for you, practically since you left."

"I'll see him tonight at bedtime."

"I'll tell him," Alicia grinned. "Once I find him. He's probably with Elsa."

"I wouldn't be surprised," Claire smiled. "I'm going to try to grab something to eat. Catch you later?"

"Bye, Claire."

The young blonde continued walking until she had left the living quarters area of the carnival and entered the customer section. She strolled down towards the concessions, unsure what to eat. Though her stomach was being vocal, she wasn't sure what she was hungry for. When her mind was not made up on a matter, she had a difficult time making other decisions, even simple ones. Scents of funnel cake, friend Oreos, and pizza filled the air as she approached. The attractive smells made her decision even more difficult. She opted for a slice of veggie pizza and an Oreo, not the most healthy option, but her stress was making her crave chocolate.

"Skipped breakfast, huh?" Hugo, the stand owner, asked her.

"Yes," she nodded, before taking a bit of her pizza. "How much?"

"Trade you for it." He opened the side of his food truck, carrying out a cardboard box of supplies. "Can you take this over to Allan for me? I ordered a few extra dozen containers and he is short."

"Sure thing, Hugo."

Claire sat on the back steps of the food truck to eat the remainder of her meal. She saved the Oreo for last, savoring the hot, melty chocolate. After tossing the paper plate and napkins away, she retrieved the box and gave a wave to the truck owner. The box was filled to the top, but not heavy. The containers were all either styrofoam or plastic. Allan and Hugo were actually cousins, which she had always found interesting. Some Specials had abilities through their entire bloodline, while others were the first and only in their family tree. It was strange how the powers seemed to choose the individual.

As Claire moved through the thickening crowd, she spotted the main object of her indecisiveness. Sylar was sitting alone near the main tent, reading. She was surprised he was reading a classic play. Some part of her expected him to be reading a medical textbook on neurology or a slasher novel. It was surreal to see him engrossed in a story she had been forced to read as part of her tenth grade curriculum.

Sensing her stare, he glanced up. His eyes locked on her form with intensity, which made her feel shaky. She didn't lower her gaze. He watched her walk past him, not saying a word, but not dropping his eyes from her face either. She tried not to flinch as she rounded the corner, disappearing from his line of vision. Her fears of being confronted by him as soon as she left her trailer had been valid. She wasn't ready to deal with the situation. She certainly didn't want to deal with him by herself, alone and vulnerable.

She had been in that situation too many times.

* * *

"Sylar." Gabriel looked up from his book to find the carnival leader in front of him. The light of the day had faded into dusk. He hadn't realized how many hours had passed. Though his mind had been focused on the play, his thoughts had been going back to Claire since he saw her walk by earlier. After seeing her, it had taken him several passes per sentence to get through the remaining lines of the play. Claire had that effect on him. "Amanda and Eli are in agreement. Tracy too. When can we start?"

"As soon as you're ready," he told him. "I have the funds. We just need the volunteers."

"There won't be any shortage of that around here." Edgar said. "I'll have Amanda and Tracy work with you on the list of supplies. Eli can go into town tomorrow and pick them up."

"Won't he need help?"

"He's got the strength of ten men," Edgar joked. "And all of them are mad at you."

"I can live with that."

"I have no doubt."

"We'll start tomorrow then."

Edgar nodded and walked away. It wasn't until he moved that Gabriel noticed Claire. Her figure had been blocked by the carnival leader. She was kneeling down by a few of the children, talking animatedly to them. Some older kids and teenagers began joining the smaller ones. A few adults came to stand or sit nearby as well. Curious, he remained where he was.

Edgar appeared at her side and handed Claire a guitar. The ex-cheerleader sat down on one of the benches in front of the children and began strumming lightly on the strings. Gabriel leaned against the side of a trailer, watching. The little ones were all transfixed. It was obvious she had done this before.

He knew Claire was unique. He had told her so. She was unlike any of the other Specials. He liked to think of himself as extraordinary, but Claire was exceptional. Her power wasn't active in the way the majority of abilities were. That had never held her back. She saw things in black and white, right and wrong, truth and lies. Though her father lived in a world of moral gray, she could never bring herself to cross that line.

When her family had not supported her decision, she hadn't made another attempt, but she didn't fold either. She had pushed past her comfort zone, creating a new life here with the carnies. It was clear to see how deeply she was respected and loved. The younger generation were captivated by her gentle kindness, songs, and stories. The adults were impressed by her constitution and dedication to the "family" they had built.

If she noticed him watching her, mesmerized, she didn't let it show. Her attention was on the children. Her fingers moved hypnotically over the strings. Playing was natural to her, as simple as breathing.

"It's a four letter word, a place you go to heal your hurt. It's an altar. It's a shelter. One place you're always welcome." Her voice came out soft, but strong. As her fingers danced across the cords, he noticed how relaxed she became.

"The word tried to break me. I found a road to take me home. There ain't nothing but a blue sky now. After all of my running, I'm finally coming," she paused, smiling at the kids.

They met her with a chorus of, "Home!" From that point on, they continued singing with her until the song concluded.

"Nice job, guys," she was grinning from ear to ear. "You're getting better. I'm hearing some improvement on the chorus lines. I can tell you've been practicing." She moved to set the guitar down.

"One more!" one of the older kids raised his voice. It was immediately met with echoes of the same request.

"That's it for tonight. You all have school in the morning."

Deflated, the children began to break off. Some paused to say goodnight to her, others came forward for a hug. He started to move forward, when a voice stopped him.

"She's more than a pretty face, you know." Amanda commented, walking past him.

"Excuse me?"

She glanced over her shoulder at him with a smirk. "Claire. There's more to her than the cheerleader you knew back in Texas."

"I've known her a lot longer than that," he replied.

"True," Amanda turned to face him, "but you don't know her. You have this perfect picture painted in your head." She glanced down, surveying his long sleeves. "And your forearm, for that matter." Raising her eyes to search his face, she continued. "No one is life is ever as picture perfect as we paint them to be. There are always scars, tiny imperfections. And if you can't accept them, then leave her be. She's happy here."

"I didn't come here with the intent to drag her back to New York."

"Good." Amanda smiled for a second, but the grin faded. "She almost went back once. I'd be damned if I let you be the reason she finally decided to go."

Gabriel raised an eyebrow. Peter never mentioned Claire coming back, except for the wedding. He was sure Noah was in the dark about this as well. Quickly he went through the past five years, trying to think of any missed hints or conversations that may have been in reference to the fire-girl's comment.

Amanda interrupted his thoughts. "And let me be clear upfront," she flashed him a glaring expression, "if you hurt her in any way, Edgar and Eli will be the least of your problems." As she spoke, a ball of flames appeared in her outstretched hand.

"Claire is the Indestructible Girl."

The fire flared. "Physically. We both know that isn't what I meant." He had underestimated this spit-fire child. "Have a nice night." With a wave, she was gone.

Gabriel remained where he was for a moment, mulling over what the child had said to him. Though he couldn't die, it was no secret that he was on thin ice when it came to the carnies. Claire had been a part of their family far longer than he had. They cared for her. Edgar and Eli had made no attempt to hide their feelings toward him. Even Micah appear skeptical at times. Amanda was one person he was certain was on his side. Given her recent comments, he was less certain.

She was still sitting on the bench with her guitar. A few light notes danced through the night air, soft but quick, like a whisper.

He decided it was now or never.

* * *

Claire hadn't noticed Sylar in the crowd watching her. Singing was a release. Sharing it with the kids made her feel special in a way that had absolutely nothing to do with her ability to heal. Having him present, took away part of that positive feeling. It made her feel exposed and vulnerable, the same as she had felt earlier under his intense gaze. She was aware moving forward required her to be nice to him, but she was only prepared to do it on her terms.

In the past, he had controlled every situation. He had lead the conversations, cornered her into submission, and forced her to remain in his company. If she was going to proceed with having him here, she would limit her interactions with him to times and places she was comfortable in. Having him present while she sang to get the children ready for bed was not one of those places.

She moved to put her guitar away, reaching behind her for the case. Despite having her back to him, she felt his presence behind her.

"Claire."

He just said her name. There was no point in wasting words or extra dialogue. She glanced over her shoulder at him. He was standing there, observing her. He was dressed in the same clothes he had arrived in and she realized she hadn't seen a suitcase or any luggage when he had been in the main tent. She assumed he had flown here directly from New York. For a second she visualized what a long flight like that would have done to her hair and was thankful for airports.

When she didn't respond, he opened his mouth to try again, but was cut off.

"Sylar."

"Doyle."

The puppet master cut through the crowd, his eyes centered on his nemesis. "I heard you were lurking about. Here to steal more powers?"

Sylar sighed, slipping his hands into his pockets. "Not today."

"Well just in case you change your mind, I think you should put some space between yourself and Barbie. Got it?"

"Barbie?" Sylar raised an eyebrow. He briefly glimpsed over at Claire, then back at Doyle.

She felt silly having him hear Doyle's pet name for her. It was juvenile. She had never liked it. Considering what Doyle could do when he was angry, she had opted to let him keep using it. Having him as a friend, if you could call him that, was better than having him as an enemy. While he couldn't harm her, she still hated feeling out of control of her own limbs. It was never a good experience.

"I don't think you should be here," Doyle stated, ignoring Sylar's twisted grin. "And neither does Barbie."

"Really?" Sylar smirked. "Then why did she vote to keep me here?" Doyle turned his head to look at Claire. She deadpanned. "I turned you into a Christmas tree once. Don't think I won't do it again."

"I'd like to see you try."

Doyle was putting on a front, but Claire knew it was a losing battle. No one here was strong enough to take on Sylar. Even if they all banded together it may be impossible. He was incredibly powerful and they weren't prepared for an attack of that magnitude. Despite the events that had transpired due to Samuel's plans, the carnival had never been prepared defensively for any form of assault. A few Specials such as Edgar, Eli, Tracy, and Amanda had abilities that came in handy for a strong defensive strategy, but the typical families were not equipped to fight.

"Listen guys, as touching as it is that you both feel the need to decide for me, I can handle myself." She snapped her guitar in place, covering the top up with a satin cloth. The lid slammed shut and she put the latch locks in place. "I don't need you," she gave Doyle a pointed look, "or you," she glared at Sylar, "to prove a point to me, because I don't care."

"Claire." Sylar spoke her name again.

"Look," she pivoted around, facing him. "Just because I voted to let you stay here, doesn't mean I forgive you. It doesn't mean I care. It doesn't mean we're friends, ok? It means I stand by what this place was created to do and nothing else. Don't read into it."

"Claire, I know-."

She put her guitar case down on the ground and stepped forward. "Just stop! Stop watching me. Stop talking to me. Stop asking me to help you. Stop asking me to understand, because I don't!" Her arms shot out, pushing him. She wasn't strong enough to actually move him, but she felt slightly better getting her aggression out. "You murdered my mother. You took my father away from me, right when he was finally starting to become a better man. You stole them from me. How am I supposed to forgive you? How am I suppose to accept that and move on?"

Her arms were shaking now. She stepped back, putting space between them. He was watching her, eyes wide. She could tell he saw her anger, felt her pain. His dark eyes were no longer the cold orbs of a murderous loner. Instead, they had been replaced by a man concerned about righting his past and securing a stable future. And that scared her more than if he still was the man she had known.

Composing herself, she cleared her throat and wiped at her eyes, brushing away tears that weren't there. "On second thought, don't kill each other. I don't want the kids having nightmares." That was all she said before taking her guitar and walking away. As she left, she could feel his eyes on her.

But she refused to look back.

* * *

"I told you Barbie doesn't want you here," Doyle noted smugly. He gave Gabriel a knowing look then walked off.

He fought the urge to punch the man square in the face. Instead, he forced himself to turn around and return to Micah's trailer. His face must have shown his defeat. The teenager asked him what was wrong the moment he entered. Once he explained, providing the abbreviated version, he was given an immediate response.

"She'll calm down," Micah's assured him. "Claire is hard to get through to. She has a lot of walls up. Just keep trying." The teen gave him a thumbs up. It was a small gesture, trivial, but he was pleased to have a least one supporter.

"I've had to break down a wall before."

"Then you know it's going to take time."

"And I have plenty to spare," he said, laying down on his bed at the back of the trailer. "That's all I have."

* * *

_**A/N: Thank you to emmaleewhittaker, xAllieinwonderlandx, Sage McMae, GoodnightMoon100, Sam, and the anonymous reviewers who had provided feedback so far. I appreciate your interest in this story. **_


	6. Outnumbered

**Chapter 6: Outnumbered**

"_It__'__s just an on again and off again situation. It__'__s just striking a match, a tank of gas combination. But here I am again lighting it up, knowing that she'll just burn me.__" - Lady Antebellum_

Claire Bennet hauled a large cardboard box off the delivery truck and carried it over to the Water Gun stall. "Here you go, Jared. These are the latest," she told the stand operator. The guy said thank you and began to sort through the hoses in his package. She returned to the front gate, where the FedEx driver was still waiting. There was one box left in the back. Claire pulled it off, balanced it on her hip, and closed the back door with her free hand. Giving a hard knock of on the side of the vehicle, she gave a wave to the driver. The man gave her a smile and a honk before driving off.

The box she carried was the last she had to disperse today. Normally she had help, but Amanda was training the other fire-starters new tricks for the upcoming Grand Opening. Eli was on stand-by with buckets of water and a fire extinguisher, just in case. It had been Micah's suggestion. Claire had specifically waited on this box. She was avoiding the recipient. Even now, as she walked past the games of chance and other attractions, she felt uneasy handing the package over.

Sylar had built his own stand near the main show tent. Despite his past indiscretions, the carnival community had accepted him with open arms, much the same as they had with Micah, Tracy, and herself. Edgar, Eli, and Amanda had become leaders, pulling the original group together after the events of Samuel's big show. Over the weeks that followed, they had held counsels and voted Edgar as the new leader.

As she rounded the corner of the game aisle, she saw him laboring away on the final touches to the stand. He wasn't wearing a shirt, which was distracting to others passing by. Seeing his flesh should have made her own skin crawl, but Claire found herself staring. His muscles were defined, toned. He wasn't as pale as he had been the first few times she had seen him. The darker tan on his skin was appealing, matching his other dark features.

Peter had tried talking to her about Sylar's reform numerous times, a return from the dark side. He had even had Emma call her. They had constantly spoke of his bravery in saving Emma from Doyle and how much of a gentleman he had become. Regardless of her uncle's assertions and his support of the carnival residents, when Claire looked at him she saw a murderer. She saw Nathan's corpse, heard Meredith begging her to leave Level 5 of the Company, and felt Jackie's fear as she was cut open.

"These arrived for you," she stated flatly, dropping the box on the ground. She didn't want to linger while he was half-way undressed. It wasn't an ideal situation and certainly not one she felt she could control.

He turned to look up at her. "Thank you, Claire." His voice sounded sincere.

"Sure," she replied, curtly, turning on her heel to leave.

"Claire?"

She paused. "Yeah?"

"Do you want to see what I'm building?"

"It's a stand," she said, not facing him.

"And they say blondes aren't smart."

"Funny." She walked away before he could get in another word.

It had been a week since he showed up. He had been attempting to speak to her more often each day. It irritated her. He acted so calm, so open with everyone. She couldn't understand how he could be so normal. These people were targets of his power hungry killing spree only a few years prior. It was baffling to her that they could forgive him so quickly. She found herself going back and forth between wanting to give him a chance and purely hating him. Some days it felt as if she was the only one in the world who hadn't gotten on the "Sylar is Reformed" train. Those moments she was willing to give it a shot, until he spoke to her.

The night of Peter's wedding, she had told him she wanted to trust him and it was true to a certain degree. She wanted to believe people could change. More than anything, she wanted the world to change. Tired of always running and searching for a place to belong, she wanted the world to accept Specials. A normal life was her desire. She wanted it for herself and for everyone here. That included Sylar. Even killers on death row could be pardoned. Her reason for trusting him was to prove to herself and to others that people could change and a new world could be created for the Specials.

Unfortunately, she was doing a poor job of forgiving him. Even if he was completely genuine and kind to her, she resented his words. He could have brought her breakfast every morning, done all her chores for her, and funded the entire carnival, but she would still hate the way he smiled or how he said hello to her. The sight of him made her inner fight or flight survival instincts tick. She admitted to herself she wasn't putting forth the effort to remedy that response.

The memories of all those she loved being hurt or killed came up all too often since he had arrived. His presence here was a present reminder of the lives he had taken and altered by his former actions. It made her feel as if she was betraying them all by forgiving him and opening herself up to trust him. How could she? How could she see a man instead of a monster, knowing what he had done and knowing what he was capable of.

She found herself standing in the middle of the aisle, biting her bottom lip. As soon as she recognized she had stopped walking, she moved. Micah's trailer was close by. Claire went by to visit her friend. Her fist delivered a sharp knock on the door.

Micah swung the door outwards, holding a Capri Sun in his other hand. "Hey, I didn't know you were coming by."

"Deliveries are done," she shrugged, stepping inside.

"Is it afternoon already?" He asked, walking over to where his monitors were set-up.

"Yeah." Claire laughed. She followed him, leaning over his shoulder to see what he was doing. "What are you working on?"

"New security system." He pulled up different layouts on some of the screens, showing a blue-print of the carnival. "I'm inter-linking our PDA system with the motion detectors I got last month and the video cameras. Soon we'll be just as hi-tech as The Company. I think your Dad would be impressed."

Claire was impressed with what he had accomplished. His inspiration unnerved her a little. She wanted nothing to do with her father's former work or her father in general. "What's next?" She asked, knowing with Micah he was never satisfied.

He grinned, changing the content on the screens. "I'm going to start pinging the satellites to provide photos of new locations so I can work with Edgar and Eli to scout them out before we arrive. Then I can use those images to put together a layout for our tents and trailers before we get there. We need to start shifting how we line up, as a security measure."

"Why?"

"You know how you took those self-defense courses a few years back?"

"Yeah."

"Did they tell you not to walk home the same way, if you lived alone?"

"I think it was mentioned."

Micah nodded. "Right, so any predator who watches their prey takes notes of their habits. If you walk home the same way each day, you are setting yourself up. Same thing here with us. If we continue to put our carnival together with the same layout all the time, if we are being watched, we are giving them a clear layout of how to get around so they can plan an easy entrance and a quick escape. If we start changing it up all the time, the risk goes down."

"It's scary how smart you are."

She moved to sit down on his extra bed. "Uh, you might not want to sit there."

"Why?" she asked.

"That's Gabe's bed."

Claire jumped up to her feet, stepped away instantly. "You are letting him stay here? In this trailer, alone with you?"

"He's not a bad guy," Micah began. She shook her head and stormed out of the tech trailer. Was there anywhere she could go anymore that hadn't been tainted by his presence?

XXXXX

Gabriel had finished his work on the stand for the day. While it hadn't been the break-through conversation he had hoped for, he had managed to talk to Claire. It wasn't hard to discern that she still didn't trust him. She kept a careful distance from him at all times, avoiding eye contact and conversation as best she could. The way she side-stepped and maneuvered, was more akin to someone avoiding a venomous reptile than a person. But, given their history, he could understand how she could think that.

He turned down the aisle where the animals were contained. Rolling cages of tigers, snakes, birds, lions, and even a black bear were collected together away from the trailer homes of the carnival residents. Though they were locked up, the animals appears content. Gabriel had never liked zoos. He found them constricting and degrading. Many animals possessed their own amazing abilities that most humans didn't appreciate or understand. People saw fit to lock them up in captivity and watch them for entertainment. Some called him a monster, but he saw that practice as truly criminal.

As he came to the end of the row, he noticed a small boy, no more than three or four years old, climbing the elephant's cage. There was a small, temporary ladder hooked onto the side of the metal enclosure and the boy was nearing the top, about fifteen feet up in the air. He quicken his pace, before rising up to bring the child back down onto the ground.

"What were you doing?" he asked, curiously, but with an undertone of discipline.

"Elsa's bag of peanuts are up there," he pointed up on top of the enclosure. "She likes to eat them after her breakfast. She told me so. She's my best friend." He stared up at him, watching the ex-serial killer closely, as if waiting for some specific type of reaction. When Gabriel didn't respond, he added, "I'm Ryan."

"I'm Gabriel."

"I know."

"You can talk to animals, Ryan?"

"Yeah," the kid said, as if it was common knowledge. They started to visit each of the animals, walking up and down the wide aisle.

"That's a neat trick. You can talk to them all?"

"Yep." He started calling out all the animals in the row. "That's Tiana," he said, gesturing to the Tiger. "She's the grandmother. She's ten. And that's Victor," he pointed to the black bear. "He used to be in a circus, but they were mean to him so now he lives with us."

"These are your friends?"

"Yes."

"What about the other kids?"

"They are ok, but I like the animals better," Ryan stated, smiling up at him. "And this is Giselle," he pointed to a cockatoo. "She broke her wing a few months ago. She's almost healed now." He stopped, puzzling over something. "Where are your friends?"

"Some are in New York City." Gabriel hadn't thought about calling Peter. Suddenly he felt bad for not letting his friend know he had made it to the carnival in one piece. He suspected, like the others, Peter believed Claire may try to stab him again or at least get him kicked out of the group.

Ryan continued talking. Apparently silence was not his strong point. "That's where Claire's grandmother and uncle live. She told me," he said matter-of-factly. "Is that where you're from?"

"Yes."

Ryan turned around, returning to the side of the elephant's enclosure. He reached his hand in. The creature moved around, her trunk wrapping gently around his tiny fingers. After a moment of pause, Ryan looked up at Gabriel, who had followed him and asked. "Claire says you used to hunt people and eat their brains. Does that make you a zombie?"

"No." Gabriel blanched. "I don't do that anymore."

"So you're not one of the undead?"

_What has this kid been reading?_ "No."

"That's good." The young boy started climbing up the side of the enclosure once more. "I like you. You're nice. Claire's nice too. She takes care of me."

"Don't your parents take care of you?"

"Yes, but Claire is my fairy mother."

"What?"

"My fairy mother," the boy made a weird face over his shoulder at the older man. "Don't you know anything?"

"I've never heard of a fairy mother. Is it a carnival thing?"

"No, it's a Ryan thing," Claire interrupted. "He means his fairy godmother." Gabriel deadpanned as she walked past him. He hadn't heard her coming. He had been too focused on the boy. Now he watched her as she called up to the child. "Ryan, what are you up there? You know your mom doesn't like you on top of Elsa's cage."

"Her treat is stuck up on the roof."

"Then ask someone to help you," Claire sighed, climbing up the side ladder. "You can't do it all on your own." She wrapped one arm around him, balancing him on her hip as she started back down. "I don't want you to get hurt."

"But I want to be like you," he pouted, as she set him down on the ground.

She squatted in front of him, bringing herself down to his level. "You are perfect just the way you are. Your power is awesome," she told him. "Don't try to be anyone else."

"Not your power," he whined. "I want to be like you."

Claire smiled, running her hand through his sandy colored hair. "What do you mean?"

"You take care of everyone. I want to do that too."

"We all take care of each other here," she said, evenly.

"Even Gabriel?"

Claire felt her face fall slightly at the child's question. She didn't want him to think the rules of the family only applied to certain people. While within the carnival setting, everyone had their role and their purpose. Everyone protected everyone else. No one needed to feel ashamed or scared. Everyone accepted everyone else, regardless of their abilities or their pasts. Doyle was a prime example of that. Claire had forgiven Doyle, despite his multiple transgressions. Could she do the same for Sylar?

In the few weeks he had been here, he had acted like a gentleman. He had assisted the others with chores and had even used his gold-touch to help buy some supplies at one point. He seemed sincere in his attempt to reform. Claire had been struck by how interested he was in returning to the carnival to determine if a life here was possible for him. She could understand with his past why living in New York City was difficult. It must have been a constant reminder and lonely. The loneliness was a topic she understood all too well. It had been Sylar himself who had pointed it out to her. She could still recall the conversation they had had.

_Everyone dies, well, almost everyone. Papa Petrelli, Mama Bennet, Mr. Muggles... what's your brother's name again? Larry? _

_L__yle._

_Right... he's gonna die too.__ I__'__m not saying there aren__'__t bridges that need to be built, but if we start building them now...who knows?_

_I'll keep trying to kill you for the rest of my life._

_Well, everybody needs a hobby._

_You__'__ll get bored after like a hundred years of trying to off me, watching all of your loved ones drop like flies. You may eventually come to forgive me. Maybe you__'__ll even love me._

Claire felt cold remembering how he had said those words to her, especially the last part. There hadn't been any emotion in his words. It was calculated, but almost bored, as if he didn't know what to do with eternity. Years had passed since that day. Claire hadn't aged in any way. She was still seventeen. He hadn't aged either. He had been right. They were going to spend eternity together. One way or another.

"Yes," she took a deep breath. "Even Gabriel." She pushed back her memories. Standing up, she brushed straw off of her jeans. "It's almost dinner time. Why don't you go home and get washed up, ok?" She flashed a brilliant smile at Ryan.

"What about Elsa?"

"I'll get her peanuts down," Claire promised.

"Ok," his face broke into a big grin. He leaned forward, hugging Claire and gave a quick wave to Gabriel before taking off.

Once Ryan was out of ear shot, he asked her. "Are you sure about what you said?" She ignored him. Her hands grasped around the ladder steps. He took a few steps closer to the cage, watching her. "Did you get your stubbornness from bio-dad or Noah?" She glanced down at him, as she continued to climb up. He was leaning back against the cage now, arms crossed over his chest with a smug look on his face. "I'm going to go with the Company Man."

"What do you want from me?"

"Claire," he smiled up at her, "You already know what I want."

Claire turned away, unable to meet his penetrating gaze. He was still shirtless, a fact that had been glaring obvious since she walked up to him and Ryan earlier. If it had been any other child, she would have found another route home. Instead, it had been her god-son. Always in the wrong place at the wrong time, Ryan had a knack for getting into trouble. She reached for the top of the cage. She reached for the bag. As her fingers wrapped around it, her feet missed the last step on the ladder. She frantically tried to regain her balance, dropping the bag in the process and toppled off the side of the enclosure. She braced herself for the impact.

"Why must you insist on being difficult?" Gabriel's voice was in her ear.

He had caught her. She realized how close she was to him. He smelled of sweat, paint, and dirt. It was an odd combination. She was surprised how it didn't bother her. Claire was aware how smooth his skin was, as hers pressed against his bare chest. She knew for a fact that the proximity should bother her. While she stared up at him, warily, he waved his fingers and the bag of peanuts flew down and into Elsa's cage. The elephant immediately began to untie the bag, proceeding to pick out the peanuts.

"Please would have sufficed," he told her, setting her back on her feet. She continued to stare at him, unbelieving. He wanted her to say 'please' as if he was her friend, helping her out?

_I don't wanna be alone. And somehow, you're supposed to help me._

_I wouldn't help you if my life depended on it. _

This was the man who had killed both of her parents, harmed her friends, and had murdered countless others for power. Saying please wasn't an option. He had to pay for what he had done. He needed to be locked up somewhere away from the world. She didn't care if he was alone. It would be better than way. He wouldn't be able to hurt anyone again. He would never be able to hurt her.

_You're gonna slice my head open again?_

_I've evolved way beyond that. My friend Lydia gave me a much more precise instrument. She could read someone, just by touching them - see into the very depths of their soul. Of course, her methods were a little hyper-erotic but... Oh, what the hell. It is college, isn't it?_

She shivered, feeling the same cool chill creep up her spine. Goosebumps covered her arms as she remembered the stolen kiss. He could have taken advantage of her. He had never gone that far. It didn't make sense, when she thought about it. He had been in her brain, literally had cut her open, but he wouldn't defile her in the more traditional sense. It was unusual. She was glad he hadn't. Still, it made her wonder about what he had said.

No matter how much she hated him, he was right. All of her family would die. Eventually the carnival would cease to exist as well. The only person on the Earth she would have any connection to would be him. Could she go on for forever without a connection to her old life? Even if he was an ex-psychopath, could she throw herself away and hide?

Friends. She could work towards friendship. She had to believe in what the carnival stood for. Ryan had called her out on her own beliefs, whether he realized it or not. This place was a safe haven for all Specials. They didn't harbor any ill feelings towards their own kind. She couldn't live here if she wasn't going to follow those basic principles, which were ideals she believed in, until now. Claire realized it was the first real time she had put those ideals to the test. If she refused to give Gabriel a chance, she wasn't a true believer.

His voice brought her back to the present. "Aren't you the little mother hen?"

She glanced up at him, seemingly unsurprised. "Jealous that I'm good with kids?"

"Surprised," he admitted. "It's another thing we have in common." She gave him a skeptical gaze, raising one eyebrow. "I made friends with Ryan," he pointed out. "But I can't sing, if that's what you're wondering about."

Unimpressed, she said. "Ryan has the ability to understand and talk to animals."

He understood her underlying jab. He chose to ignore it. "Funny how the number of things we have in common keeps climbing."

"I think it's funny you're still keeping track."

"Why? Did you lose count?" He countered with a smirk. "I will admit there are far more than I imagined."

"I imagine you leaving here."

"Do you?"

She nodded, eyes staring down the aisle, not focusing on him. "Every day."

"Must be exhausting." He sighed, stretching his arms up and over his head. Claire watched him, squirm slightly. She expected him to try to put an arm around her. The uncouth move had been showcased multiple times in movies and TV sitcoms. She thought he'd have more class than to try it. When he didn't drop his arm around her, she sighed inwardly with relief. She wasn't sure why she cared at all.

"Living here with you? Yes, it is."

"No," he laughed. "Hating me with every fiber of your being."

She thought about the words for a moment, her mind lingering on the real meaning behind what he had said. Hate. She had said she hated him. She had told herself she hated him. She had even believed she hated him, but hating someone meant wanting to kill them. If she killed him, she'd be no better than he was. She would be killing for personal gain, for personal satisfaction. Claire couldn't allow herself to become that person.

It was easy to see how someone could. She had fantasied about it, about killing him, at times when she was beyond angry or plain pissed off. She had thought about cutting into him with a surgical blade while having Renee keep him powerless, sedated. Each detail had been worked out in her head to an alarming degree. She understood how he had lost himself. Going down that path was like walking down a one way street that was also a dead end.

There was no coming back from it.

XXXXXXXXX

Her eyes finally centered on his face. He raised an eyebrow and asked. "Something wrong?"

"No."

Gabriel's head tingled at Claire's obvious lie. He didn't push the matter. She gave him one last confused look, before walking off. He didn't follow.

The lie was something he brood over later. He was more concerned with what he had seen when he caught Claire. His ability to see an object's history was helpful, though something surprising. He had caught flashes of moments he was already familiar with: her on Level 5, trying to kill him and her visiting him as he pretended to be Nathan, preparing for the Presidential meeting, and finally her at college when he had attempted to persuade her to see what they had in common. None of the memories showcased him in a good light. That wasn't what bothered him.

Amanda had mentioned she had almost lost Claire. Now he knew why.

He had seen Claire walking around the carnival at night. Most of the tents and stands had been taken down. He assumed it was because they were getting ready to pull out and move onto the next location. From what Micah had described, he knew they moved every few days, never staying more than a week in one location. She was alone, humming a song to herself, smiling. That's when she heard the screaming.

Unlike most people, Claire ran towards danger, instead of away from it. She took off in the direction of the sound, running at top speed. When she found the source, the smile vanished. It was replaced by a glare he knew all too well.

Amanda was lying unconscious on the ground. There was blood on the side of her head, running down from a gash on her temple. Her tank top was torn, revealing a brightly colored bra underneath. Kneeling above her was a man, probably in his late thirties. Claire brought her entire body down on the man, ramming into his side and forcing him away from her friend. She clawed, kicked, and punched the assailant, until Edgar appeared. By the time the carnival leader had gotten to the scene, the man who had assaulted Amanda was worse for wear, but Claire's eyes had glazed over.

Gabriel saw her over the next few days, sitting alone in her trailer. She didn't play any music. She didn't eat any food. She didn't speak to anyone at the carnival. She sat in solitude, biting on her bottom lip, thinking. He understood that look in her eyes. He had been there too. Once he had realized what he was capable of, truly understood it, he had faltered. He had been scared of himself, of the power he could yield. Claire had experienced the same. She was frightened of her ability to unleash her rage. Though she hadn't even come close to killing the man, waking up her primal instincts had scared her enough to appear as though she had.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. He was tired. He wanted a shower and to lie down in the trailer. Most of all, he needed to clear his head. The visions of the night Claire had defended Amanda had only increased his fear about Angela's warning of an attack on Claire. He had vowed not to take another life, but he knew himself well enough that if anyone ever tried the same thing on the blonde ex-cheerleader, he would not let them live. Going down that path meant leaving his life of reform and returning to the killer he had once been. Ultimately, he was sure that would chase Claire away for good.

That was a risk he was willing to take, if at the end of the day it meant she was safe.

XXXXXXXXXXX

As she had walked away, Claire still felt the her nerves tingling. She could already hear Amanda's voice in her head, squealing with delight when she found out Claire had fallen into Sylar's arms. Amanda was a hopeless romantic. She'd see the interaction as pure love or some other nonsense. Claire hoped Sylar wasn't thinking about it that way. He had mentioned love, friendship, and connection a few times in their history. She wondered if he knew what those things truly were. Did she?

It was strange to think of him as her friend, but after what she had said to Ryan, she realized she had to deliver on her word and at least make the effort. Maybe it would be so bad. Others at the carnival seemed to find him nice enough. The guys found him helpful with a touch of dry humor. The females thought he was attractive, a topic she didn't want to be involved in discussing for obvious reasons. Apparently, kids were ok with him too. Micah had accepted him. Amanda seemed to think there was a love connection. And now her godson thought the guy was great too. She was out-numbered.

It annoyed her how quickly Ryan had warmed up to Sylar. Ryan was her special little buddy. She had been there when he was born. She had watched him grow, taking care of him when his parents were busy or needed a night by themselves. She had always had a soft-spot for him. It was hard to watch him look up to another adult, especially when that adult was Sylar. She knew what she needed to do and headed towards the practice tents.

Claire slammed the back of her fist into the bag, letting out a short burst of air. She spun around, throwing a hard round kick. Jab, breathe, cross, breathe, kick, breathe, upper-cut, breathe. On and on it went. Combination after combination with some crunches, planks, and push-ups thrown in between for good measure. She had come to the stunt practice tent each day since Sylar had shown up to work out her frustrations on the bag.

About three years ago, Amanda had been sexually assaulted. After that, Claire had signed up for self-defense classes and kick-boxing. Understanding that her power was purely a defense mechanism, she wanted to learn how to take a more proactive approach to things. Now, as she moved around the black, leather bag, she found peace in being able to defend herself without her ability.

Last summer, she had stopped going to classes, using what she had learned over the last couple of years to put together her own routines and her own workouts. She practiced a few days a week in the stunt tent, sometimes more depending on her stress level. On particularly bad days, she came here to work out her problems. Typically those days were when she heard from Noah or Angela, though on occasion Peter had been the cause of her slamming her fist into the bag too. Today, she needed it to work out her frustration over the Sylar/Ryan friendship.

"Wow, you're predictable." Micah walked into the tent.

"And you're a bandwagon jumper."

"Why, because I let the guy crash?"

"Because he is a deranged serial killer who hunts Specials, but you rolled out the welcome wagon like he was family."

"He is…kinda. Besides, he saved my life once. I owed him." Claire rolled her eyes. Micah made a face back at her. "What's with all the wagon talk? We aren't scheduled to go down the Oregon Trail or anything, are we?"

Claire shot him a look around her bag, before completing a back-fist and throwing a spinning back-kick. "Why don't you stand right here?"

"Pass."

She couldn't hold back a laugh. "What's up?"

"I came to see if you wanted to grab dinner. Amanda wants to eat before she goes to set-up for tonight's show."

"Sure," Claire said between a series of kicks. "Let me just grab a shower at home and get changed."

Micah's face dropped. "Oh yeah, about the showers-." He scratched the back of his neck, looking embarrassed.

"What?" Claire stopped moving to focus on her friend.

"It's not my fault," Micah started. She pretended to smash her head into the bag. "Hey! It's not my fault, ok?" She shook her head, not believing him. Sitting down, she began to undo her gloves. "I was checking out alternative water sources and trying to redirect a few pipes in town and I may have caused a back-up that led to a pipe burst on main street, so the water got shut down for the hook-ups."

"Micah!"

"It was an accident."

"Sure it was." She sighed, hanging her head down between her knees. "So what do I do now?"

"The old camp ground is on a different sector. You can use the showers there."

Claire groaned and began her walk back to her trailer. She was glad today was coming to an end. It had been a whirlwind of realizations, feelings, and too much Sylar. She needed a good night's rest and to reset for a new day.

At least it couldn't get any worse.

XXXXXXXXX

_**A/N: Famous last words…**_


	7. Attack

**Chapter 7: Attack**

"_I wanna be the one you run to. And I wanna be your only one. I wanna be the one you turn to. And I wanna be the one. Why did all the good times turn to sin and has it been so long? I've been standing here in my footprints and I am so wrong." - Soil_

Later, the carnival was getting ready to close for the evening. The last show was finishing up in the main tent. Claire had just completed her indestructible routine with Edgar. Tonight for added effect, he had stuck her though with multiple blades. She wasn't a fan of the skimpy costumes, but she hated removing blood from fabric even more. In the side tent, she changed back into her t-shirt and jeans, sighing with relief when her feet slipped back into flip flops instead of the ridiculous heels that were part of her costume.

She lifted the tent's flap, walking out. She had seen the show so many times, she could practically imitate Edgar as he thrilled the audience one last time. Cheers and applause filled the air. Grinning to herself, she decided to go to bed early. She was on garbage duty tomorrow and she wanted to get an early start before it got too warm out. Sweat was never sexy, even if the magazines made it looks desirable.

"Hey good-looking. I liked your show."

Claire glanced over her shoulder at the unfamiliar voice. A guy several years older than her was sitting on a bench, casually whittling. "Thanks," she replied, instantly not liking the fact that he had brought a knife into the carnival. Wasn't Eli supposed to prevent that sort of thing? She made a mental note to bring it up to him tomorrow at breakfast and kept walking.

"Where you going in a hurry?"

She knew better than to tell him the truth and continued walking. "I'm going to go grab some popcorn. You should try some. It's good."

"I'm more in the mood for dessert," the guy stated. He sat the wooden piece down, flicking the knife shut. He placed the blade into his pocket, quickly catching up to her. "Any suggestions?"

"Cotton candy?" She flashed him a sarcastic smile.

"I'm in the mood for something a little sweeter." He grabbed her wrist, bringing it to his face and smelling her skin. Claire ripped her limb out of his grasp. That only seemed to make him more pleased. Her stomach began to churn as old memories resurfaced. This man wasn't the same one, but he could have been. "Don't worry. I don't bite," he grinned, "much."

She let a punch fly, hitting him square in the chest, and followed it up with a jab to the ribs. He stumbled back. She turned, sending him into the dirt with a side kick. He went down, but got back up. Claire stepped back, rotating and sending her back leg forward to connect with his chest. He caught her by the ankle, gripping hold and tossing her down. He wasn't surprised at her agility and he didn't curse, as she had seen others do when engaged. Instead he was calm, expecting the fight. This scared her even more. He was trained.

She got to her feet, rolling away from him. She threw a round kick, aiming for his head, but he ducked and she over-stepped. Her balance was off. She knew she was getting sloppy by acting too hastily. She needed to regain composure and stick her next blow.

"Claire?"

Her heart sank in her chest. "Ryan." She ran over to the child. "What are you still doing up?"

"I was watching the show. Mom said I could." He was talking to her, but staring past her at the man who was lumbering towards them.

Claire heard him snap the knife open from its case. "Get lost kid," he snapped.

"Leave her alone!" Ryan shouted, running full speed at the man. He bounced off the guy's legs, landing on the ground. The man laughed and raised his blade.

Claire moved instinctively. "Don't hurt him!" she screamed, getting in front of Ryan. The knife cut through her collarbone. The blood only oozed for a few seconds, before the skin began to repair. The unknown man watched it, unsure what was happening, but once again not surprised. Claire took the opportunity to deliver another punch, making contact with his arm. He dropped the blade. She kicked it somewhere under the tent.

Her fear had increased exponentially. If this man was trained and aware of her abilities it meant she was right to suspect a Company, or worse a government agency. She had to get him out of here long enough to warn the others. They couldn't stay another day. They had to move the entire group out tonight. The attacker was back up on his feet, and Claire knew what she had to do.

"Ryan, go find Edgar." She pushed the child away from her towards the nearest aisle. His eyes were wide with fear. "Go! Run!"

Claire whipped around to hit the man with another side kick, but he was already in front of her. He brought his fist down just below her shoulder, causing her muscles to scream in pain. Her right arm was her stronger of the two, the one she normally delivered her punches with. Desperately, she delivered a front kick. It was a weaker blow than she intended. He faltered back a couple of steps, before coming at her again. That was when she saw the gun tucked in his pants.

He grabbed her hair, yanking hard enough to snap her head back. "You've got some fight," he breathed into her ear. She drove her elbow down hard into his ribcage. He cursed at her. She didn't hesitate, running for the tent's entrance.

The gun shot off, the bullet colliding with her side. The impact threw her off balance. In the next moment, he had pulled her to her feet, slamming her into the nearest wooden beam. Her head was spinning from trying to heal her gunshot wound and the new split in her forehead. She could see drips of blood hitting the hay by her feet.

"They said you'd be trouble, but I didn't think you'd be a challenge." He shrugged. She didn't understand what he meant. Who said she'd be trouble? Did he work for someone? Was there another Company out there? "I like a challenge, but I like getting paid more." When he spoke, she felt the cold, metal of the gun at the base of her neck and head.

She realized if he pulled the trigger there would be no regeneration, no coming back. For a second she was scared, but just as suddenly as the fear hit her a new feeling washed over: relief. She had tried to kill herself countless times. In the beginning it had hurt. The pain made it bearable. After Sylar had removed that part of her brain, she felt more like a freak. Now, it was all coming to an end. No pain, no life, just death. She would finally be free.

Until she thought of her friends and the family she had created here. Who would warn them? Who would protect them from this maniac? A new kind of pain gripped at her heart. Had she been the one to lead him here? Was she the reason this man was doing this?

"Time to say goodbye, cheerleader."

Claire heard the gun fire behind her. Her vision became blurred and there was a searing pain at the back of her head, like a headache brewing. It only lasted a moment, but she realized it was the first time in years she had been able to feel pain. At the same time, she heard someone calling out to her. She blinked, trying to clear her gaze to identify the familiar voice. Everything was fading to shadows. The lights had dimmed, bringing her into darkness. At the last moment, a dark figure came forward to catch her as she fell.

Then everything went black.

* * *

_Claire was standing in Matt Parkman's apartment in New York City. She knew this was a memory. She remembered coming to Matt to warn him that Nathan was rounding up Specials and planning on doing something to them all. She called out for the police officer, but he didn't appear. She called again. There was no response. She saw movement out of the corner of her eye, towards the back of the apartment._

_She pushed the glass door to the bedroom open, spotting Sylar. He didn't say anything. She recalled how he had saved her at the theater then disappeared. Had that been real or just a dream? She couldn't remember. Just as before, the front door burst open as agents crowded into the apartment. Claire threw up her hands in surrender, watching them take positions in the kitchen/dining room area. _

_Glancing over at the glass bedroom doors, she saw Sylar out of the corner of her eye. He was watching the soldiers intently. They hadn't spotted him. Their weapons were all pointed at her. He gave her a brief look, then walked out of her line of vision. She felt helpless. The agents came closer to her, the barrels of the guns all facing her. Then Sylar reappeared, walking out of the other doors into their eye line. _

_Before they could react, he turned his hand, releasing electricity. He sent them one by one to the floor, tossing them aside, knocking them down. The bodies fell to the floor like Dominos, lying motionless. Claire watched in awe, amazed how in less than a minute he had rendered all of them unconscious, except one. He telekinetically held one up against the wall, demanding to know how they had found him and Claire. _

_The lone soldier attempted to be brave. Sylar wasn't patient. He raised his index finger to cut open the man's forehead. _

"_Stop." She didn't scream and she didn't beg. She simply asked. He glared at the man, but his finger lowered. _

"_You aren't going to follow us. You aren't going to report us. Understand?" The agent nodded. Sylar released him, then grabbed Claire's hand, gently pulling her out of the room. "Come on. We have to get out of here." _

"_You…you didn't kill him."_

"_No." _

"_Why?"_

"_Because you asked me not to." _

* * *

Gabriel noticed Ryan running through the crowd. Something about his haste seemed off. He wasn't smiling and he wasn't happy. His face was filled with fear. There were tears running down his red cheeks. He stepped forward, directly in the the child's path. When Ryan got close enough to run into him, Gabriel gently grasped him by the shoulders.

"What's wrong?"

"Claire," the boy cried. "The man has a gun. He was going to get me, but Claire told me to run and get Edgar."

"Where is she?"

"Behind the main tent." His breathing was labored from his sprint.

"Go find Edgar," Gabriel told the boy.

He knew a gun couldn't harm Claire physically, but he still took off in the direction the young child had indicated. With so many normal people around, he couldn't take the risk of flying. His feet hit the dirt hard with each step. The entire situation was wrong. He could feel it. He wished he had Parkman's telepathy so he could search for Claire's thoughts or her attacker's. He could tell the man to put the gun down or shoot himself.

The notion of someone coming into the carnival and attempting an act like this disgusted him. This place was a safe haven. He knew how hard everyone here worked to preserve that sanctity of their home. Claire had found solace in living here. He was afraid this event would shatter her resolve to have a stable, safe home.

As if to increase his fear, he heard a shot go off. He quicken his pace, a sickening feeling in his stomach churning. He rounded the corner of the aisle, seeing the yellow flags on top of the big tent as he came to the back entrance. His eyes immediately found Claire. The man had her shoved up against one of the wooden support beams, the gun pointed at the base of her skull.

"Time to say goodbye, cheerleader." The man snapped, pulling the trigger back with a precise click.

He became frantic. His thoughts were jumbled as he tried to focus on any one of his powers that could disarm the attacker. The spot where the barrel was resting was a spot he knew all too well. With his shape-shifting ability he had been able to bury it deep, hidden away from the world. Claire didn't have that luxury. Any other location, she would come back. How could this monster find her one weak spot?

And then the shot rang out.

"Claire!"

He ran forward, waving his hand at the murderer. Instantly the man was pinned to the exact spot he had held Claire. Gabriel reached her before her body hit the ground. He lifted her motionless form, falling to his knees. "Claire?" She didn't move. He paused for a few moments and touched her face. She wasn't breathing. He carefully placed two fingers on her neck. There was no pulse. When he noticed the two gunshot wounds were not regenerating he knew. If it were possible, his heart would have stopped. The painful reminder of why that could never happened was lying lifeless in his arms.

Enraged, he felt his abilities surging. The raw power coursed through his entire body. He laid her down, making sure to do so gently, then he was on his feet. "You killed her," he snapped at the unknown assailant. Gabriel rotated his hand, causing the man to flip over, so he could face him.

"What the hell are you?" The man was struggling to push himself free.

"I will be the last thing before you die."

"Listen." The guy's breath was ragged. He strained to speak. "I can pay you. I'll give you whatever you want, ok?" Gabriel didn't say a word. "She came onto me," the man tried another approach. "It's not my fault."

Even without the tingling in his head going off, Gabriel knew it was a lie. "What kind of man goes after a young girl? Hunting weak prey?"

"Like I said. She came onto me. I'm only human."

"Yes," Gabriel took a deep breath. "You are only human." He emphasized 'only' as he spoke.

The urge was over powering him now. He could smell the fear on the man. The terror widened his eyes. He still fought against the telekinetic hold, but the ex-serial killer's power held him in place. Gabriel's pointer finger raised up. He had vowed not to kill again. He had promised Peter that he would find an alternative way to remedy situations such as this one. One glance back at Claire made him rethink his words. She didn't deserve to die, not this way, not by this animal.

He began drawing his finger across the air, hearing the scream of the man, as blood poured forth from his head wound. The man began pleading for his life. The words all jumbled together, not coherent to Gabriel. He stopped himself. Head wounds bled quickly. He was going to make this man suffer.

Gabriel telepathically sliced into the man's arm, then quickly cast another slice through his chest. He grinned menacingly, as the man cursed at him. It was like tic-tac-toe. How many marks could he make before he won? Slash. Slash. Scream. Slash. Slash. Scream. There was a nice rhythm to it now.

"Oh my God." He heard Amanda scream as she and several other carnival residents appeared around him. He dropped his finger, instantly. At first, he thought the scream was targeting him and his actions. When he turned around, he realized he was not the reason.

"Claire!" The fire-starter dropped to the ground, her eyes desperately looking all over her friends body. "She's not healing. Why isn't she healing?" she shrieked, tears coming out of her eyes. Gabriel stayed where he was. His hands remained at his side.

"What the hell is going on?" Edgar pushed to the front of the forming crowd. The instant he saw Claire, his strong exterior faltered. He turned back around, ordering parents to take their young ones home and demanding Eli and Tracy to shut down the carnival. "I don't want the police involved," Gabriel heard him hiss. "We take care of our own." Tracy was looking at Claire, her eyes stuck on the blood stains in the blonde hair. Eli had to pull her away.

Edgar waited for a moment, taking a deep breath, before coming to kneel on the other side of the ex-cheerleader. "Is that the one?" he gestured to the attacker, still pinned to the beam. The blood was running down the sides of his face, along with tears. Gabriel could only nod. His finger was twitching at his side. "Let him down, mate. I'll take care of this one."

"No." Gabriel's voice came out darker than he remembered it. "He's mine."

Amanda was in hysterics. She clasped onto Claire's unmoving hand, her tears splashing against the skin. "I don't understand," she said between ragged breaths. "Why won't she heal?"

"The bullet disconnected her neural receptors, effectively breaking her nerves communication with her brain and disarming her healing ability."

She looked up at him, her face flushed and covered in tears. For a moment she was silent. He, himself, was surprised at how cold his voice had come out. "Can you fix her?"

He froze. He knew the girl was desperate. Comforting another person wasn't an activity he had a lot of experience with. Peter and Emma were friends. He was able to speak to them. New friends or even some old friends such as Parkman were less likely confidants. He wanted Amanda and Edgar to leave. He wanted to be alone to say goodbye to Claire, after he dealt with the monster who had murdered her.

Amanda picked up on his hesitation. She wiped the tears from her face, standing up to come to his side. She put her "Please."

"Even if I give Claire my blood, it won't work. The nerves are damaged and can't tell her brain she needs to regenerate. The nerves need to be-."

He stopped without finishing his sentence. Claire was broken. His first and most intimate power was his ability to know when items were broken and needed to be fixed. Not only could he see what was broken, he knew how to fix it.

"I need light," he demanded, leaving the attacker to kneel by Claire's body. He was overcome by his need to repair. He conquered his anger, causing him to focus on her instead of the man who had caused this. To Edgar, he said, "Help me turn her over." Amanda created a large fireball between her hands, lighting up the area. "I need some space," he directed them.

Hovering over Claire, he cautiously inspected the bullet entry wound. Blood covered her skin, staining her light hair crimson. He moved it away, centering on the interior. The nerves had been burned and torn from the bullet entry. Where they had once connected was now a mess of tangled brain matter, skin, nerve endings, blood, and other fluids he didn't know the names of. Her spot was destroyed. The same spot he had. A spot he had hidden to avoid a mess like this. Telekinesis was handy when completing minor brain surgery. His favor to Hiro in regards to Charlie's aneurysm had proven he could leverage the skill with precision and accuracy. However, when he had been dealing with Charlie's life, the situation was different.

He had told himself he was not going to force anything on Claire. That plan had backfired multiple times. He had come at it from different angles, but in the end, she always rejected him. If he proved himself a hero and continued to help out around the carnival, there was hope she would eventually change her mind. In the end, he knew the best he could hope for was for them to be friends, so neither of them would be alone through eternity. He was cognizant of the fact he was lying to himself. Friendship was a bridge toward the end goal he had in mind. Over the past weeks, he hadn't let himself think about it. He had gotten his hopes up once before. He didn't want a repeat. And he couldn't be Claire's hero if she was dead.

Driving away his desire, he turned his attention back to the task at hand. Fitting together the nerves was akin to putting together an elaborate jigsaw puzzle. All of the endings were torn and burned, making it nearly impossible to distinguish which ones were meant to join together. He tried not to think about the possibility of putting Claire's spot back together incorrectly. The outcome could be disastrous. He made each motion with a careful deliberate swipe, listening vigilantly to his primary power to discern where the nerves needed to reconnect. When he finally shifted back, he felt beads of sweat on his brow. Mindlessly, he wiped them away, waiting to see if Claire would regenerate.

There was a long, silent pause. He was aware he was holding his breath, just as Edgar and Amanda were. At first nothing appeared to be happening. Then, after about a minute, the skin began to sow itself back together, closing up the gaping wound at the back of Claire's head. Instinctively, Gabriel wrapped his arms around her, rolling her over, so she was facing Amanda and Edgar.

"Hooooo," Claire's eyes opened and she sat up with start. She began to cough, spitting out the bullet into her hand.

"Claire!" Amanda nearly knocked her over, as she sprang forward, enveloping her friend in a tight hug. "Thank you," she gasped, through more tears, at Gabriel. "Thank you so much."

He merely nodded, shocked that it had worked. Being a Special meant they were blessed with abilities. Those abilities were an evolution in their genetic code, but the limitations of the abilities weren't always easy to understand. His ability to hold onto multiple powers had been unique. When he had taken on too many, he began to lose his control over them and himself. Claire had been the one to help him understand why.

The ex-cheerleader whipped her head around to stare up at him. "You?" Her eyes were looking at him, staring with an indiscernible expression. "You saved me?"

"He did." Edgar patted Gabriel on the back, a bit harder than was required.

She was still staring, as she rose to her feet. "I don't know wh-." She fell forward, unsteady on her legs. Gabriel caught her effortlessly, picking her up just as easily. She brought her hand to her head. At first she looked scared, then her face broke into a smile. "It's been a while since I felt dizzy."

"Blood loss," he stated, evenly. "It might take longer for you to regenerate this time. There was nerve damage." She didn't fight him or make a comment about the fact he was holding her. He took that as her permission to continue to do so.

The joy he had felt after saving Emma had been incredible. It was unlike anything he had experienced before. Having the opportunity to save Claire tonight made that encounter with Doyle seem insignificant. He was on a new high. Her acceptance of him, even if it was only temporary, made the high intoxicating. All other feelings fell away, including his drive to torture and kill her murderer.

Gabriel had completely forgotten about the man. Turning around slightly, he saw the filth had paled a great deal from the blood loss. It was safe to assume he had no idea what had just happened.

"She needs to rest," Gabriel told Amanda and Edgar. "I'm going to take her back to her trailer. You can take care of him." Gabriel nodded toward the man, finally releasing the attacker to the ground.

"Oh, I will," Edgar promised, pulling out his knives.

"Me too," Amanda's hands filled with wild flames.

The ex-serial killer toted the indestructible girl through the curious hoards of carnival residents, to her trailer. She had her eyes closed, her face still regaining color as her body healed itself. They didn't speak, but he was fine with that. The high had him acting as though the rest of the world could be on fire and he'd still have a pleased grin plastered on his face. The one thing he was slightly worried about was the attention the event had received. He felt defensive, walking past the carnival residents. An attack of this magnitude hadn't occurred in over five years. He hoped no one put together how Claire's ability worked, or didn't work. It was a piece of information he wanted to keep secret for her sake.

When he arrived at her trailer, Micah was sitting on the steps. As he saw them approach, he jumped to his feet. "Claire," his face was filled with relief when he saw her. "They told me you were shot and your powers weren't working. I thought-."

"I'm fine," she said, her voice low.

"She needs to rest," Gabriel repeated with a protective look.

Micah nodded, understanding. "I'll come by tomorrow to check on you," he promised. "I'll bring you some blueberry pancakes." Claire smiled and gave him a thumbs up. He started to walk away, pausing to put his hand on Gabriel's shoulder. "Thank you." Then he went off, presumably to continue working on his computer.

"I feel like I'm in the Twilight Zone," he muttered, shifting Claire in his arms, so he could open her door.

"Why?"

"I've never been thanked so much."

He set her down inside her trailer, waiting in the doorway, unsure. She walked over to her sink, grabbing a washcloth from the faucet. While she ran it under the water, she grimaced, "I thought I was done trying to get blood stains out of my clothes." She began dabbing at the back of her neck to remove the dry, caked on blood. "I'm going to have to go into town and get bleach." Her hand shook slightly, as she continued to work on her skin and hair. Without invitation, he followed her inside, taking the risk of her anger to assist.

"Let me." He took the washcloth out of her hand, forcing himself to ignore how she flinched when he made contact with her. He pulled her hair back so he could see the area. Lightly rubbing, he noticed the blood start to come up. He ignored the memory of her lifeless form on the ground, splattered with the red liquid. He had seen so much blood be poured, so much death. Having to watch her die hit him in an unexpected way.

"That man," she startled him by speaking. "He knew about me. He wasn't surprised when I healed. He's seen people like me...people like us before. He was trained to fight. He said they told him I'd be trouble. He knew exactly where to point the gun, exactly where to shoot." She shivered. "How is that possible? How did they know where to find me?"

Gabriel felt sick. Though Angela had warned him, he hadn't been prepared for the idea of someone hunting Claire, hunting Specials. It was not what he expected to hear. As far as he knew the Company was gone, though he wouldn't put anything past the old Petrelli or Noah Bennet. Despite his distrust, he also knew Noah. The man would never harm his own daughter. That meant there was a new player in the game. He needed to do some digging. Looking up at Claire's face, he saw the fear. She had been remembering and analyzing the details. She was smart enough to be able to assess the attack and break it down. She would have been a great Company asset. He wanted to ask her more about it, try to identify more about the assailant so he could begin looking for connections. But he couldn't bring himself to acknowledge that she had a reason to be scared.

"There," he said when he could no longer see any red, trying to ignore her words and change the subject. He didn't want her to focus on her fear. "It's like it never happened."

"But it did," she sighed, shaking her head. She sat down on the edge of her bed, pulling her legs up and resting her chin on top of her kneecaps. She wrapped her arms around herself, her hair falling around her face. "All that training and for what? I couldn't save myself. I can't save anyone." She looked up at him, as if she was asking him specifically. He could see the disappointment in her eyes, the anger at herself. He understood all too well that feeling. For years he had wanted to be more than he was. He had longer to be important, powerful. He thought he could save his mother, save the world. When he realized that wasn't the path he was on, he had taken a different approach. When he didn't respond right away, she dropped her eyes, staring at the floor.

"You saved Ryan," he offered.

Her head picked up slightly, but her voice was still defeated. "I told him to run."

"Isn't that what Peter did when a certain deranged psychopath came after you?" She looked back up at him. Her eyes were filled with horror, but at the same time her lips were twisting into a smile. "You told him he was your hero."

"I can't believe Peter told you I said that to him. It's so embarrassing." The smile was still there, growing slightly. "If I remember correctly, you were that deranged psychopath." She shook her head, letting out a small smile. "You were completely terrifying."

"That could possibly be the nicest thing you ever said to me," he said. Her grin widened and he turned away, not wanting her to see how happy it made him. He carefully rinsed her washcloth under cold water, trying to pull out the blood. "I can drive you into town tomorrow for bleach. I'm sure they have a laundry mat." Taking a drive away from the carnival would be a nice change of scenery. It would give him some alone time with her.

There was no response. He glanced over at her and noticed the smile was now gone. She was biting her bottom lip. He knew that look. She was thinking hard about something. He hung the washcloth over her faucet. "I should go. You need your rest." When she didn't reply, he took that as a strong indication he should leave. He didn't want to outstay his welcome.

Opening the door of the trailer, he considered saying goodnight, but stopped himself. He needed to be patient. Progress had been made. She let him touch her, allowed him in her home, and even had the comfort level to smile at him. He had to be grateful for those strides. If he forced it too soon, he could lose his chance to gain her trust.

During the past week, he had contemplated going back to New York and giving up completely. He had been positive he was never going to crack the cheerleader. She was too willful and her will was to despise him. Due to the current situation, he felt the tables had turned slightly in his favor. There was a possibility they could build bridges. He had to remember how far they had come in a short time. He had time, so why did it feel like he was always running out of it when he was with her?

"Sylar?"

Her voice behind him made him stop outside. "Gabriel," he reminded her, as he turned around.

"Right," she nodded, a light blush forming on her cheeks. The color was a good sign for a multitude of reasons. First and foremost, it meant she was healing, but a close second was the fact that she was actually embarrassed in his presence and allowing him to see that. Her guard was down. "Sorry. Old habits." She remained where she was, but she didn't say anything further. She seemed to be waiting for something.

"Do you need something?"

"I meant it when I said I wanted to trust you." She was peering directly into his eyes. His head didn't tingle, but even without his powers, he would have known she was telling the truth. The sincerity in her words caused his whole body to feel as though an electric current was running through his veins. Her walls were coming down. She was having conversation with him of her own free will and the topic wasn't her intention to kill him. "I can see you're trying and," she paused, lowering her face and taking a deep breath.

Even if she stopped right now, right in this moment, it was enough for him. Being here with her was enough. She was gorgeous, standing there backlit by her trailer home, watching him. She was so small, so vulnerable, but she was here. She was with him. A part of him knew her emotions were running high due to the attack, but a larger part of him was grabbing onto this moment. This was a moment he had waited for. In the last five years he had envisioned speeches, gestures, and even gifts he could give her in order for her to reach a turning point with him. Saving her life was the largest gesture he could have ever planned for, but it had never been an option. With Claire's ability to regenerate, he had never worried about her life. Having almost lost her, he suddenly felt even more grateful for these moments with her.

When she raised her gaze to him again, he noted the intense conviction in her gaze. "And I'm sorry I didn't give you a chance before. If you hadn't been here tonight, if you weren't here at the carnival…" her voice trailed off.

"Claire," he stepped toward her. He reached his hand forward and brushed her hair out of her face. "It's over. You are safe now."

She nodded, biting back her lip again. "I know." She didn't flinch this time when his fingers briefly touched her skin. "Thank you." She wrapped her arms around herself, backing up into her trailer. "Goodnight...Gabriel."

"Goodnight, Claire."

She gave him one last fleeting smile and closed the door.

* * *

_**A/N: And so it begins...**_


	8. Admission

**Chapter Eight: Admission**

"_If I didn't hit it, would you still say you needed me? Guess I walked right into it. Guess I made it too easy. If any word that you said could have made me forget? Would I get up off the floor cause this is all in my head?" - Broods_

The following morning, Claire woke up to the sounds of someone banging on her front door. "Ugh," she groaned to herself, as she found her feet. Mornings were not her friend, especially after nearly dying, which was not an activity she was used to. She padded across the floor, noting the time. With another grunt, she stepped down to open the door.

"Micah," she yawned. "It's 7:45."

"I know," he beamed, holding out a plate of fresh blueberry pancakes. They were still steaming. She stood back to let him in. He sat the plate down at her table, moving to the mini fridge to grab the Brita, one object she had valued enough in college to bring with her. "Water, right?"

"Yes, please," she mumbled, already biting into her hot breakfast.

"How are you feeling?" He asked, taking a seat across from her. He pushed a glass of water over to her side.

She swallowed. "Back to normal."

"What happened?"

"Some guy wanted-" she made a suggestive face, unable to actually put it in words.

"Pig."

"I would have chosen a different name."

"I think pig is fitting," he snickered.

Claire raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

Micah held back his laughter. "Amanda roasted him." Claire's eyes went wide. "After Edgar speared him."

"They killed him?"

"Well, yeah. What did you think they were going to do?"

"Not kill him," she responded, feeling her appetite leave.

He sensed her unease with the subject and the grin faded from his face. "I mean, that's just what I heard. I could be wrong." She didn't respond. She was holding onto her fork, but she didn't take another bite. It was just hovering above her plate, as if she was frozen or stuck in slow motion. "Claire, he saw what you could do. He saw Gabriel heal you. Even if we took him to the authorities and press charges, there was no guarantee he wouldn't be back for proof or worse. Plus, there'd be an investigation, lots of reporters. You know what that could mean for us."

She nodded. She had heard her father use the same excuse time and time again. "I know. I just didn't expect it."

Micah put his hand over hers. "We take care of our own here. If their had been another way, Edgar would have done it. You know how he is since Lydia was murdered." Claire nodded again, but she left the pancakes sit. "Hey, at least the ex-serial killer didn't do it, right?" She raised an eyebrow. Micah leaned back in his seat, realizing his error. "Anyway, do you have plans today?"

Suddenly Claire remembered her chores. "Oh no! I've got trash duty today," she jumped up, frantically shuffling through her drawers for a clean pair of jeans. "I'm so late."

"I wouldn't worry about it," Micah replied between mouthfuls of the forgotten pancakes. "Gabriel already took care of it."

"What?"

"Yeah. He was finishing up when I got your pancakes."

"How did he-?"

"He asked Amanda what you were put down for. He figured you'd need to rest."

"Why?"

Micah gave her a knowing look. "Seriously? Can't you see that guy has it bad for you?"

Claire turned her head to keep her friend from seeing her face. The blush was hot on her cheeks. She didn't understand why everyone kept saying that to her. Before it had made her uncomfortable and creeped her out. After last night, it was causing butterflies in her stomach._What is wrong with me? _She folded and refolded her jeans before slamming the drawer shut.

"He makes the rest of us look bad." Micah added between bites.

Claire continued putting away her clothes. "He doesn't have anything for me. Ok? We're just friends." Micah nodded, but gave her a 'yeah-ok-whatever-you say' type of look. His expression made her think of her brother for a moment. In a way, Micah was her brother at the carnival. Younger than her and slightly prone to accidental troubles, having him around was akin to having a pesky sibling like Lyle. It took her a moment before she caught on. "Wait a second, who are you trying to impress?"

He dropped his gaze, suddenly very interested in eating the rest of the breakfast on his plate. "No one."

"Micah Sanders!"

"I don't want to talk about it," he said, quickly shoveling food in in his mouth.

Claire gave him a knowing look. "If you won't tell me, I'll figure it out on my own."

"No offense, Claire, but you're not a great detective."

"What makes you say that?"

"The fact that you can't see what the rest of us see." She raised her eyebrow, quizzically at him. "Gabriel came here for you. He's been trying since he got here to make amends. You won't even give the guy the time of day, but he's still here. Still trying. He's been helping everyone here out, giving them money, helping fix up the stands and banners. That is more than a path to redemption."

She felt the butterflies again. Though she didn't want to admit it, Micah was correct. Throughout the time Sylar had been here, he had been a complete gentleman to her. He had offered up his services to anyone who would accept his help. Last night, he had saved her life, a feat none one else but Peter could say they had accomplished, considering her ability. She recalled how gently he had touched her when he had dabbed away the blood from her wound.

At first she hadn't realized he had been in her trailer. After he had left, she had sat in bed analyzing their intimate conversation. She had been alone with boys before. Zach, West, and Alex had all been close to her in their own way. Zach had been one of her first real friends. Now he had no idea who she was, which still stung a little. West had never understood her need to tell the world of her existence. Even after her plot had been foiled by her father, she still felt it was the right thing to do. Alex had just clicked. She found him easy to talk to right away. Despite her connections to all three of them, none of those relationships came close to the intensity she had felt last night.

Admitting she had traits in common with Gabriel was a step she had taken years before. Recognizing the bond they shared was a new experience. Bond was a strong word, but she wasn't sure how else to classify what she was feeling. He had been extremely careful around her, quiet, waiting. When she had opened up, he had reacted positively, but he hadn't pushed her. He wasn't manipulating the situation to his benefit or attempting to get anything out of her. His focus had been her.

"I need to talk to him," she told Micah.

"He should be done with the trash by now." Her friend seems pleased with himself. His smile grew as he finished off the pancakes. He appeared rather smug, until Claire spoke once more, as she exited the trailer.

"I bet he'll know who you're trying to impress." Claire got a wicked grin on her face.

"No, wait!"

* * *

Gabriel threw the last bag of trash into the dumpster at the end of the road. He wanted a shower. With a quick glance around, he noted there wasn't anyone in sight. In the next second, he was back at his apartment in New York City. He picked out a change of clothes and pulled a clean towel out of the hall closet, before entering the bathroom. He appreciated indoor plumbing more now. Though Hiro's ability made it easy to come home, he would have preferred to stay onsite at the carnival.

The fact that the attack on Claire had been planned, unnerved him. He had not slept at all the night before. After leaving her trailer, he had returned to the scene of the attack. Edgar had removed the nameless assailant. Eli, Amanda, Tracy, and the carnival leader had taken the man outside of their home. Gabriel had located them about a half-mile away, in a large field. When he arrived, Tracy had been the first to speak to him.

"We have it covered. Besides," she had glanced back at the man, "I want a piece of this guy."

"You have no idea."

Something had altered in him at that moment. Tracy had been wise enough to step aside as he approached Claire's attacker. The others did the same. He stood over him, analyzing his style of dress, his physical features, and his composure. Though he had lost a good amount of blood and had taken a beating, the man was calm. Though it could have been from the lack of blood, Gabriel wondered if he had been trained for a situation such as this. Claire's comments were at the back of his mind. He was constantly playing them over and over in an attempt to uncover the true purpose of this event.

"I'm going to make this simple," he informed the man. He ignored Gabriel, not bothering to lift his head and look him in the eye. "It's obvious you were sent here for Claire Bennet. One problem with that master plan, you got me instead. Now I don't know who told you to come here, but they aren't your friend. They aren't doing you any favors. Do you know why?"

"Piss off."

Gabriel grinned, feeling more in control than he had all night. He crouched down by the man, grabbing his hair to force him to look back at him. "I am Sylar."

The man tried to keep his face on, but as the recognition hit him, his eyes gave him away. Gabriel had pushed up off his feet, standing up. He raised his index finger. It was so familiar, so intoxicating to feel the power and wild it so effortlessly. Within seconds, the man who had caused so much chaos in the past few hours was dead.

"I thought you were reformed," Edgar commented, as Gabriel lowered his hand and turned to leave.

"He killed Claire."

"She didn't die."

"That doesn't change anything."

"No, it doesn't. But how do you think Claire will feel when she finds out what you've done?"

Gabriel glared over at the carnival leader. "She can hate me, but I made a promise to protect her. If that means she goes through eternity hating me, then I'll have to live with that. I'd rather see her alive and hating me than watch her die because I was too weak to stop it." He watched Edgar closely. "Can you say the same about Lydia?"

Edgar swung a right hook. It caught him on his lower jaw, knocking him back slightly. Amanda let out a cry, while Tracy and Eli stepped back. "Say that again." Edgar had his blades poised, anger evident in his features. The pain was fleeting, as Gabriel straighten up. He realized his error. He was becoming too confident again. Without thinking, he had brought up painful memories and danced them right in front of Edgar.

"Sorry," he muttered.

All eyes were on him. There was a mixture of confusion and fear, and in Edgar's case, pure hatred. He took their silence as the approval to leave, figuring they would dispose of the body. He needed to distance himself from his lapse. He transported himself back to New York, taking a scalding hot shower to rid his body of any signs of the night's events. When he put a clean set of clothes on, his skin was still red and warm to the touch.

Afterwards, he had returned to the carnival to sit up with Micah, discussing options for security improvement. It was a much less eventful period. During his short time with Danko, he had been able to assess the security parameters of Building 26. Though Micah didn't have all the tech required for such a system, there were modifications and additional parts they could order to create a more secure environment. The teenager had stayed up most of the night with him, while they mapped out enhancements and placed orders. Around 3am, Micah had passed out on his keyboard. At that point, Gabriel had taken over his laptop in order to start running searches.

He couldn't locate any information on a new company. The government didn't appear to have another organization for targeting Specials either. The lack of information bothered him even more. It meant that someone had gone to great lengths to keep their plot hidden.

It had been weeks since he had spoken to Peter. Now was a good time to bring his friend up to speed. Teleporting himself back to New York, he quickly showered, dressed, and then appeared in front of his friend's door.

A couple of sharp knocks caused movement inside. The door opened. "Gabe?"

"Hi Pete."

"I didn't know you were back."

"I'm not," he replied, giving him a serious look. "It's about Claire."

Peter stepped aside instantly, letting him into the apartment. He saw Emma in the kitchen cooking and gave her a wave. She smiled back, hard at work over a skillet of omelettes. "Do you want some breakfast?"

"No," he shook his head. They took seats in the living room on opposite couches, facing each other. "Pete, listen, there was an attack on the carnival last night." He detailed everything he knew about the events from the previous evening, including his research and how he increased security. "Something isn't right about this. Your mother warned me someone would go after Claire, but this isn't the Company. I'm not sure what it is."

He watched Peter mull over what he had told him. "Someone is targeting Claire. Why? She can't be harmed."

Gabriel remained neutral. Peter knew he had feelings for Claire. They didn't discuss it. Gabriel had maintained his care for her over the years. It was personal. Peter understood that and didn't bother to pry. However, talking about how Claire had died, knowing that she could be killed enraged him. He was aware of how easy it was for him to lose his composure when it came to her. He was ashamed of his actions. He didn't want Peter to know about it.

"You said no one else at the carnival was hurt or targeted?"

"No one," Gabriel confirmed. "Only Claire. He sought her out, knew exactly where to aim."

"I'll reach out to the others. I'll see if anyone else has had any trouble."

"I'm going back."

"Now?"

He nodded, getting up. "Claire will be waking up soon. I need to see if she remembers any other details about last night." And I'm not letting her out of my sight until this is over.

"I'll call you when I find out something," Peter rose to his feet, following Gabriel to the door.

"Thank you, Peter." He exited with a quick wave to Emma and started down the hall to find a quiet place to teleport.

"And Gabe," Peter called after him.

"Yes?"

"Please keep her safe…for me."

"That's something you'll never need to ask me for."

In the next second he was gone, returning to the carnival, just outside Micah's trailer.

* * *

Claire had walked around the entire carnival. She couldn't locate Gabriel anywhere on the grounds. She was about to give up when she heard Ryan call her name. He came running over to her, throwing himself around her legs. His face was still worried, the same as it had been the night before. She tried not to think about that.

"Hey, kiddo," she greeted him, running her fingers through his tousled hair.

"Claire, you're alright!"

"Of course," she smiled, kneeling down to look him in the eyes. "You know nothing can hurt me, right?" She poked him lightly on the tip of his nose, causing him to smile back at her.

"I knew Gabriel would save you."

"What do you mean?"

"I told him you were in trouble." Ryan explained what had happened after he had gotten away. "He told me to go find Edgar. He didn't want me to get hurt." He paused to catch his breath, having said everything very quickly. "But I made him promise to save you."

"I am a man of my word." Claire glance up over her shoulder at Gabriel, who seemed to have appeared out of thin air. "Claire."

"Hi."

"How are you?"

"Good." She replied, brushing off her jeans as she stood up. "I was looking for you earlier."

"Really?" He seemed amused.

She ignored it. "I wanted to thank you for doing my chores. Were you in the trailer? I knocked, but there was no answer."

"I was showering. If you're concerned, I'll make sure to invite you next time." He winked at her.

"Girls and boys can't shower together," Ryan pointed out. "Don't you know anything?"

"That's right," Claire grinned. "Girls and boys can't shower together. That's why there are separate areas over at the camp grounds."

"My mistake," Gabriel apologized, but he was still smirking. After a brief pause, he turned to the child. "Ryan, I need to go into town today to pick up bleach. If your parents give you permission, do you want to go along for the ride?" Claire saw Ryan's eye's light up. She looked up at Gabriel, but his focus was entirely on the boy. "I bet they have an ice cream parlor in town." He added to sweeten the invitation.

"Can we go there?"

"I don't know," Gabriel faked a dramatic sigh. "I guess that depends."

"On what?" Ryan asked, practically jumping with excitement.

"If it's ok with your fairy mother."

Claire had to admit he was good with kids. He had remembered Ryan's special name for her. Though she figured small details came easy for him, it was a nice touch. He was getting Ryan to like him without putting forth much effort. Simultaneously, it was working on her as well. Seeing Ryan so happy after last night, warmed her. It made her see how caring Gabriel had become. If he could make this child, a kid he barely knew and owed nothing to, feel important and safe, how bad could he be?

"Please Claire?"

"Alright. Just make sure you are back in time for chores before dinner." Ryan let out a scream of excitement and took off running. "And make sure you're parents are ok with it," Claire yelled after him. She wasn't sure if he had heard her, but she knew Alicia and George would be fine with it. They had enough to worry about. Having a few extra hours without their boy around would give them so breathing room. "That was nice of you," she commented, turning her attention back to Gabriel.

"Have to make friends where I can." He shrugged. "Not everyone finds an ex-serial killer an attractive companion."

The last words caught her attention. "Random question. Do you know who Micah is trying to impress?"

"Impress? As in a lady friend?"

"Yeah," Claire laughed at his choice of words. Typically, he was straight forward and to the point, but lately she had noticed he had a unique way of talking when he wasn't one-track minding it.

"Maybe."

"Tell me."

"No."

"Why?"

"Brotherhood."

She gave him a non-believing look. "Brotherhood? As in Brotherhood of Darkness, Axis of Evil, secret underground labs, what kind of deep, dark commitment are we talking about here?"

"All of the above. I'm not picky."

"No, you just like to pick through people's brains." She reached up, pushing her finger into the side of his head, just below his temple. "Because that's attractive."

"It got your attention."

"I don't know if you can call me promising to kill you attention," she laughed, shaking her head.

He didn't answer. The smile fell from his face. He looked ashamed. Claire instantly felt bad when he didn't rise to her bait. She had thought they were ok with teasing each other back and forth in this manner. It may have seemed strange and off-putting to anyone else. After what they had been through, it seemed as close to normal as they could hope for. Noting his continued silence, she began to think she had crossed a line.

"Gabrie-."

"About last night," he cut her off. "Do you remember anything else about the attack? Anything that may separate it from another group or organization?"

Claire's face fell. His good-natured humor was gone, replaced by the cool business man. It was eerily close to how her father behaved at times. "No," she stated, evenly.

"Claire, this is important," he pressed.

"I think I know that," she replied, her tone getting sharper as her words got shorter. She didn't understand why she was getting so mad at him. He was just asking questions, but she felt annoyed. He was back on the one-track, entirely focused on the violence. She didn't want to go back to that life. "I was the one who died, remember?"

"Yes."

She crossed her arms over her chest. "My dad was a Company man. I think if I remembered something else, I'd be smart enough to tell you about it, alright?"

"Of course."

Micah had said Gabriel was here for her. Right now, she felt used. if he was truly on a path for redemption, his actions over the past couple of weeks were plenty to redeem himself. He had been able to show himself in a positive light, even to her. Saving her life had made him a good guy. Few people would see it another way. He had gotten what he had come for. She wasn't sure why he was still here, unless he was going for a complete victory. Catching the one who did this to her would certainly seal the deal. She could only imagine how hard Peter and Emma would vouch for him then.

"I don't want to talk about it anymore." She felt like an idiot for believing her friends. The only thing Gabriel wanted was to prove himself to her, to prove he was right and she had been wrong about him. He had accomplished that task. Now, he was attempting to tie up the loose ends so he could return to New York.

"Claire-."

"No," she felt her anger growing. "It's over. You saved me. You got to play the hero. You're done here."

She didn't look at his face as she walked away. If she had, she may have seen his confusion.

* * *

Gabriel ran a hand through his hair while he waited outside Alice and George's trailer for Ryan. His conversation with Claire hadn't gone well. When he had relayed that to Peter, his friend hadn't been surprised. Unfortunately, they were both striking out. Peter reported that no one else had been attacked or had had any strange occurrences since the carnival had been in Central Park. The news both relieved and frustrated him.

He was leaning against the old, metal tow-along. It was one of the few homes he hadn't gotten around to fixing up or replacing entirely. Noting the condition, he would prefer to replace it. He began considering which type of trailer would be most suitable for the family of three. Luckily, he didn't have long to think about it, as the enthusiastic child burst through the door, leaping off the bottom step.

"I'm ready!"

"I can tell."

He couldn't help his smile. He had always liked kids. They were innocent, full of hope and full of life. Problems that troubled an adult meant nothing to a child. Sharing came easily. There was very little judgement and next to no limitations in their minds. They were pure. Ryan was especially likable. He was a bit of a loner, which Gabriel could relate to, but he was kind. He had a good heart. It was a bonus that he was Claire's god-son. He was hoping his attentiveness would get him some brownie points with the blonde.

"I don't have a car," he admitted, as they began walking out of the carnival. Ryan looked up at him, quizzically. "Exercise is healthy, especially when our lunch consists of ice cream."

"How far?"

He suddenly realized he didn't actually know how many miles it was to get into town. He was pondering whether or not to fly when a vintage blue Chevrolet pickup truck pulled up to them.

"Need a ride?" Claire smiled, her arm resting on the open window. She had changed into a plaid, printed button up shirt, her hair falling over her shoulders. "Hop in," she said, nodding her head towards the interior of the vehicle.

"Yay!" Ryan bolted from his side, running behind the truck to the passenger side door.

He was surprised to see her looking so jovial. Their parting earlier had been cold. He had seen the anger flare in her eyes when he had stopped joking to focus on the serious situation they were in. Her denial of the attack wasn't making protecting her any simpler. He would have preferred to continue talking to her, to let her see he could be a normal person, not scary, not controlling. But the moment she had teased about killing, he remembered his true purpose.

Immediately he had recalled her damaged body. She had been in a far worse condition than he had ever seen her before. The proximity of the shot to her body had destroyed nearly her entire face, which he had shielded the others from with his shape-shifting ability. Claire was strong, but she had her vulnerabilities the same as anyone else. He knew she wouldn't appreciate them seeing her that way. It was that image he kept seeing. It was that image that hardened his resolve. He was committed to saving the cheerleader.

"Where did you get this?" he asked, as he settled into the passenger seat, making sure to buckle Ryan in between them.

"Hush money," she stated, shifting the vehicle into drive. Her tone was a little sharp. Then she added in a softer way. "Angela was forced to give me all of my inheritance from Nathan after his death. I was going to use it for college, but," she shrugged. "There's not much they can teach me about life that I don't already know. She threw in extra to keep me from going public."

"I find it hard to believe money would work."

"It didn't. Just a perk."

"Why didn't you go public again?"

Claire shrugged. "When I came here to the carnival, I was angry. I felt betrayed by everyone, my dad, Angela, even Peter. It took me a long time to calm down. By the time I had, I was happy here. I didn't need to go off on a crusade again. Besides," she smiled over at Ryan, reaching over to tickle his side. "I had this one to look after."

Gabriel watched her eyes on Ryan. She was extremely loving and devoted to the boy. He knew Claire to be selfless when it came to the people she cared for. She had grudgingly agreed to shoot her uncle, she had taken a bullet for both her mothers, and had risked her freedom for a boy with the ability to breath underwater. Giving anything she had to protect others was one of her best traits. It preserved her purity and it was one of the reasons he was so drawn to her.

It took them about fifteen minutes to get into town. Gabriel was thankful Claire had shown up in the truck, though he suspected it was more for Ryan's benefit than it was for his own. She was extremely protective of the child. He would have had to fly Ryan in. The distance was too great for a small child to walk. That meant the possibility of someone seeing them, unless he revealed to the youngster about his teleporting ability. He was hesitant to share that with anyone at the carnival until he had a chance to gain Claire's trust. He feared her reaction when she found out he had been the real person to deliver her to the carnival five years ago.

Ryan asked questions about the town while they drove in, interested in what life outside of the carnival was like. He seemed especially interested in how people went through their day to day lives without abilities. Growing up amongst Specials had given him a unique perspective on life. He wasn't accustomed to seeing people attending school, going to jobs, and not speaking openly to each other. He was familiar with what school, work, and immobile homes were, but he didn't understand why the people in town chose to live that way. Claire did her best to explain, which he found entertaining.

Claire parked the truck in front of a grocery store, pointing out the ice cream parlor a few blocks down.

"You two get in line," he suggested, noticing the steady flow of people into the shop. "I'll get the bleach."

The small grocery store was fairly generic. He quickly found the bleach, paid, and tossed it in the truck. The ice cream parlor was full when he entered. Claire and Ryan were making their way towards the front to order. He slid into line with them.

"What's your favorite flavor?" he asked Ryan.

"Cookie dough!"

Gabriel winced. He could only imagine how many grams of sugar was packed into that. Claire was laughing to herself. "Ok, but just a small, alright?" He glanced over at the ex-cheerleader next to him. "And you?"

"Mint chocolate chip."

"Refreshing."

"You?"

"Chocolate."

"Just chocolate?" Ryan asked, looking unenthusiastic.

"I'm a traditionalist."

"What's that?" Claire laughed again, though she kept herself back a step and her face angled away from him.

"Never mind." They placed their orders. "My treat," he insisted, producing a few bills to pay the cashier.

"Thank you," she said, over Ryan, as the ice cream was handed over the counter top to them.

As they exited the parlor, the park across the street came into view. Ryan's attention immediately transitioned to the playground at the center. Dozens of children his age and older were climbing over the money bars, clambering up the side of the main structure, and slipping down the slide.

"When I'm done, can I go play?" he begged.

"Sure, but no powers." Claire warned. "And no questions about their lifestyle, got it?"

Ryan made a gesture like he was zipping his lips closed and quickly dug into his ice cream. He had demolished it in minutes, while Gabriel was still trying in vain to catch all the melting drops off his waffle cone. Kids were always great eaters when it came to sweets.

While Ryan ran about the playground, he and Claire took a seat on an empty bench to enjoy their ice cream. The silence gave him time to watch her out of the corner of his eyes. There was a light breeze, and a few strands of her hair floated about. Her eyes were on the child, taking in his every motion. She was seemingly unaware of the breeze or anything else around them. She wasn't stiff anymore. Her body wasn't tense or ready for a fight. She had either learned to trust him enough to relax or she was simply too focused on Ryan to care. He could still sense the irritation in her voice and her motions.

"When are you returning to New York?"

He was surprised by her question. Initially he had thought she was peeved because he had pushed for details about her attack. Claire was stubborn and didn't like to be thought of as weak. He could relate to that feeling. His experiences had taught him to get over that. Understanding an opponent's strength and knowing his own weaknesses made him a better predator. That wasn't Claire's problem and now he understood. She thought his motives were purely to prove her wrong. In actuality, he hadn't considered when he would move back to the city permanently. His ability to teleport made maintaining his lifestyle rather easy, though he hadn't shared that ability with Claire yet. It was becoming a nuisance to keep the charade up with Micah. The sleeping arrangements weren't the best.

"I don't know." Her face changed. "Disappointed?"

"I thought you'd be leaving," she admitted. The rage was gone now. Her voice was soft, almost apologetic. "Now that you've proven yourself."

"Did I?" he grinned at her. "That's not why I'm here."

"Then why?"

Her eyes stared at him. He held her there, in that moment of stillness, watching her watching him. It was a standoff, of sorts. He wanted her to say she wanted him here. He could see it in her orbs. It was exactly what he was hoping for. Still, he knew Claire would never be the first one to admit her feelings. She had made connections with the carnival residents, but she still had her walls.

"You. I came here for you, Claire."

* * *

_A/N: Hope it was as good as what you all were expecting. I'm completing a Sylair one-shot in an attempt to try a darker, sexier side of their relationship and how it may have developed after Brave New World. I'm hoping to have it up before the July 4th holiday. As always, feedback is welcomed. Stay tuned!_


	9. Together

**Chapter Nine: Together**

"_Look around. There's no one but you and me. Right here and now, the way it was meant to be. There'__s a smile on my face__, knowing that together everything that's in our way. __We__'re better than alright." - Lifehouse_

Claire felt her breath hitch at Gabriel's direct admission. She couldn't find words to respond, leaving her stuck in his penetrating gaze. The playful cries of the children in front of them faded away, as did the light breeze, and the sounds of street traffic. The only thing she could see was him. It was as if in that moment they were the only two people on Earth. In the same instant, she realized, there was a strong possibility that one day that would be true.

"I'm not leaving you," he added, as if he needed to clarify.

She inhaled slowly, trying to articulate a response. All she was able to muster were two words. "Why me?"

"I believe we've already discussed the 'Why Claire Bennet' philosophy'". His lips twisted up in his signature smirk. She recalled his filled chalkboard from when he had visited her college. That memory also contained the stolen kiss, a moment in time that had recently been playing over and over again in her head.

"Is that all?" Now he chuckled. "We have things in common, but who doesn't? Most people have similarities. It doesn't mean that they belong together."

"True," he weighed her words, but his smirk remained. There was a slight pause before he asked. "You think we belong together?"

Heat flared up on Claire's cheeks. "That isn't what I said."

"No. And that's not an answer."

His gaze intensified. Claire felt her breath hitch again as her mind raced to come up with a noncommittal answer. With his ability to tell if she was lying or not, she had to be cryptic with how she worded her response. While she mulled it over, his eyes remained locked on hers. A dare was there, sitting just at the surface, but underneath was something different, a pure emotion. That scared her more than her own feelings for it was just as intense as his gaze.

"Tick, tock, Claire."

The blush burned on her skin. Despite it all, she couldn't pull herself away. Part of it was because of her own stubbornness. She didn't' like to back down from a challenge. The other part was because she wasn't sure of her own feelings. It was true she had questioned whether or not Gabriel was actually meant to be with her, mostly because they shared the same ability. Until recently that was the only similarity that had mattered. Now, she felt there was more than just the blocks he had referred to back at college. There was a connection.

And it was pulling her closer to him each minute.

"Claire! Look at me, look at me!" Ryan was at the top of the jungle gym, about thirty feet away, waving his arms back and forth excitedly, a huge smile plastered on his face.

She waved back, feeling as if she had woken from a dream. All the noise from her surroundings came back, as her eyes focused on the colors and running kids around them. Needing to move, she went over to the side of the structure, nearer to Ryan.

"Is he yours?" a woman a few years old than her asked, coming to stand next to her.

"My godson," she replied, smiling at Ryan as he climbed through a connecting tunnel above her head.

"He looks a bit like your husband," the woman remarked. "He'll be a heartbreaker."

Claire gave her a confused look. The woman pointed over to where Gabriel was sitting on the bench, a full blown grin on his face. He had obviously heard the woman. Claire felt the blush returning to her cheeks. How could this woman think they were married? Claire barely looked twenty on her best day and she didn't have any wedding band on her hand.

One look at Ryan, who was now waving eagerly at Gabriel made her inwardly cringe. He wasn't helping her. To anyone who didn't know, Ryan did appear to be their child, having arrived in town with them, while they picked up groceries, treated him to ice cream, and now allowed him to play so they could speak alone. She mentally checked off all the activities, realizing that this was what a normal couple with a child did.

"He's not my-."

"Ready to go, dear?" Gabriel cut her off, placing his arm around her shoulders and pulling her into a side hug.

"You're a lucky girl." The woman smiled, before walking away.

As soon as she was out of ear-shot, Claire whipped around, causing him to drop his arm. "You did that on purpose!" she accused.

"It was hard not to. She set it up so well." His grin had spread, so she could see his pearly white teeth. "And we belong together, remember?"

"Ryan" she called, ignoring Gabriel and the Goosebumps which were starting to appear on every inch of her at his words. "Come on, we're heading back."

"Awww, man," the child made a pout face, but Claire wasn't having it. She waited at the edge of the playground for him, keeping her back to Gabriel so he wouldn't see her red cheeks. Luckily, Ryan either didn't notice or didn't care.

"We are moving tomorrow, so we need to do chores before dinner tonight," Claire reminded Ryan, as the three walked back to her truck. "And we are doing the chores before showers," she added, knowing she'd have to clarify for the boy.

Last week, Ryan had had to help clean up the animal stalls with his parents. Too worried about other activities, he had showered before meeting his father at Elsa's stall. Needless to say, he had needed another shower before he went to bed that night, which meant he had missed Claire singing. He had cried about it in his bunk until Claire had come over to sing him a single song.

"Ok," Ryan agreed, hopping into his seat between Claire and Gabriel in the truck.

The ride back to the carnival was completed in silence, but the entire time, Claire was aware of the unflinching smirk on Gabriel's face.

* * *

Once they made it back to the carnival, Ryan took off running for home. Claire locked up her truck, but didn't say another word to him. Before he had a chance to corner her, she was gone. He went in the direction of her trailer, hoping to get a chance to receive a straight answer from her. When he found her, he noticed she was leaving her mobile home. Gabriel saw Claire heading off to the edge of the carnival. He followed behind her, keeping enough distance so she wouldn't see him. She was carrying something with her that he couldn't see clearly. It wasn't until she entered the campground's women's shower rooms he understood. He started back for Micah's trailer, but stopped.

He didn't like how secluded this part of the campground was. He understood when it had been built this was for privacy. After the attack on Claire, he didn't approve of her being alone so far away from the rest of them. He stood off to the side of the building, far away enough that he couldn't hear the sounds of the running water, but close enough that he could make out the entrance and exit signs.

Claire had finally let him in, but he wasn't satisfied. Now that he saw her smile, had been able to speak openly with her, he wanted more of that. He wanted more time with her seeing her laugh, hearing her voice, and watching as she was able to be herself. Luke had been one of his closest attempts at friendship before Peter. Though he hadn't been looking for an ally at the time, he had been grateful for the company and to have someone to talk to.

Having forged that bond with Claire, he knew being with her meant more than that. Friendship wasn't the only kind of relationship he wanted with her. She made him feel better, more normal. If they were going to live out their days together, he wanted them to be friends and more than friends. If he had her to talk to and spend his time with, he wasn't concerned about eternity. But he needed to make sure she was on the same page.

"Watch your eyes, mate." Edgar interrupted his thoughts, stepping in front of him.

"I can't see through walls," he chuckled. "That is one power I don't have."

Edgar pointed one of his knives at Gabriel's chest. "Listen boy-o, I don't like you being here. And it still doesn't sit well with me what went down with Lydia and Doyle, but Claire vouched for you so you got to stay. I appreciate what you've done for the carnival and for Claire, but that doesn't mean you get to stalk her. We take care of our own here. The moment you slip up, you can bet I'll be there to escort you out."

"Me too," Eli appeared and surrounded Gabriel with duplicate copies of himself.

"Shut it, E," Edgar snapped.

Apparently he wasn't the forgiving type. Gabriel knew that Eli had been part of the plot that had gotten Lydia killed. He also had known how Edgar felt about the woman. It was a fact he had manipulated to his own advantage the night before, which didn't make him feel very proud. If the tables had been turned, one punch wouldn't have been where he stopped.

He was surprised Eli was still at the carnival, but he understood how Edgar could use him to his advantage, such as almost voting him out of the carnival. On the other hand, Edgar was Claire's friend and they were similar. Both were stubborn and wore their hearts on their sleeves. He could see why Claire felt such a kinship to Edgar.

"I was keeping an eye on things. After last night's incident," Gabriel gave Eli a pointed look, "which your security should have prevented, I felt the need to step in."

"We've got it covered. Thanks." Edgar's knife point was still on his chest.

"If you say so." He pinched the top of the blade between his fingers, moving it away from his body. "Even so," he crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back onto the souvenir stand. "I'm going to keep an eye on the girls." He indicated Tracy and Amanda, as Claire's friends entered the shower in front of them.

"You mean on Claire."

"A+ for the keen observation, Edgar! Claire is a girl."

The knives were back. "You don't mess with her. Are we clear?"

"Crystal."

"Good."

Edgar marched off. Eli remained, though he and his copies distanced himself from Gabriel. He could have cared less about Edgar's warnings. He wasn't worried about the speedster. There was very little he could do to Gabriel. He was more concerned about keeping his promise to keep Claire safe. Though it was highly unlikely there would be another attack in the next twenty-four hours, he wanted to keep an eye on her.

Part of his commitment was out of the need to keep her safe, part of it was his own desire to be close to her.

* * *

Showering in a campsite shower room wasn't ideal. Claire reminded herself to smack Micah the first chance she got. Tracy had offered to go with her, which made Claire feel more comfortable. These types of places always seemed so creepy. After the years she had spent dodging homicidal maniacs, government agents, and her own plotting father and grandmother, she didn't trust new surroundings, especially ones like this, where it was easy to get cornered.

She set her shower caddy on the cold, cement floor, twisting the metal knob in front of her to test the water temperature. It took a few minutes to get right. Once it was, she stepped under. As she ran her washcloth over her limbs, she thought about her encounter with Gabriel earlier. They had definitely reached a turning point.

He had a sense of humor, which when he wasn't trying to cut open her brain, she could appreciate. She hadn't anticipated being able to talk to him so openly. The things they had in common were numerous, far too many to count. It made it fairly easy to fall into a balanced conversation with him. Surprisingly, she realized how much she had missed having someone to talk to.

She had her friends at the carnival. Micah, Amanda, Tracy, Edgar, Ryan…the list went on. Her connection to them wasn't the same as what she now had with Gabriel. They accepted her. They cared for her. They loved her. However, none of them would ever truly understand what it was like to be her. Never dying. Never aging. Though it sounded fun, it had its drawbacks. Only Gabriel could see that and know what she felt.

His admission to her at the playground had her perplexed. She hadn't anticipated him to openly admit that he was here for her. Everyone had told her that since he had shown up, but it was an entirely different matter to hear him announce it straight to her face. Instead of clearing up any confusion she had in regards to him, it brought up more questions. What did he mean by it? Was he referring to being friends or something else? If it was just friends was she ok with it? If it was something else, was she ok with that?

Claire was rinsing out her hair, mind clouded with queries, when her friend walked in. "Your hero is here," Amanda flashed Claire a pleased grin, then winked. "And looking good as always."

"He's not _my_ hero," Claire rolled her eyes.

She suddenly felt self-concious. Her body hadn't changed over the years. It couldn't. Still, she felt strange in her own skin, knowing that Gabriel was so close. She knew he wasn't able to actually see her, but after the previous night's events, she found that she cared what he thought, specifically what he thought about her. It caught her off-guard. In a way it scared her. She had never cared what people thought of her before. She had thrown herself out buildings. Coming to with blood splatter, broken bones, and torn ligaments was never appealing. All that had changed.

"Right. He's here because he wants to be a carnie."

"Hey," Claire gave her an angry look. "You know how I feel about that word."

"He's attractive," Tracy commented, rinsing the suds out of her long locks. "It's not the worst type of attention you could be getting."

"See?" Amanda smiled. "Tracy agrees with me. It's like my mom used to say. If you have an itch, scratch." Claire felt uneasy thinking about Lydia telling her teenager that, especially given the history with Sylar. "There's nothing wrong with using him for a bit of fun and then throwing him back out."

"I can't do that."

"Why not?"

"I'm a relationship person, Amanda. I don't do flings." She finished her shower, moving to grab her towel. "And two, he'll outlive any other boyfriend I could have."

Tracy laughed. "I'm pretty sure he isn't looking for a fling, hunny." She gave Claire a knowing look and once again Claire felt her cheeks heat up.

"Oooo," Amanda eyes were dancing with fire now. She loved drama and intrigue. "Why don't you ask him to move out of Micah's trailer and into yours?"

"Are you insane?"

Her friend did a little hip shimmy dance while wagging her eyebrows. "Hear no evil, see no evil."

The whole idea was so ridiculous it was hilarious. Only she wasn't laughing. For a brief moment, Claire pictured herself asking Gabriel if he wanted to move in with her. She knew how cramped Micah's trailer was. She had enough room for a family of four. There were several scenarios that she imagined. His response went from complete shock to lustful invitation accepted and all areas in between. Her imagination only increased the number of questions in her head.

Her cheeks continued to burn, while Amanda continued her silly dance around the shower room. Claire couldn't help it. She started giggling at the sight of her friend, which thankfully took her mind off the earlier suggestion. "Wow, I wish you could see yourself right now."

"Don't worry. I know exactly how good I look," Amanda replied, emphasizing 'good' as she spoke.

"I bet the telekinesis comes in handy."

"Tracy!" Claire couldn't believe she was hearing this. Why did everyone seem ok with the idea of her and Gabriel being together? Had everyone forgotten their past history? She moved over to the mirrors to comb out her hair before throwing it up in another towel.

The older blonde shrugged. "Men are men, even the special ones. They like to play, just like us."

Claire felt her cheeks turn three shades darker. She shook her head again, hasting her routine so she could finish and leave the showers. The conversation had gone from uninvited, to humorous, to downright awkward. She needed to get back to her trailer before Amanda and Tracy ganged up on her with anymore suggestions. Quickly, she wrapped her towel around her head, bending down to pick up her caddy, and stepped out of the shower room.

She was walking so fast, eyes focused only on her way back that she missed him entirely. As she to escape the overbearing comments from her friends, the object of their discussion appeared by her side.

"Can I borrow your shampoo?"

She jumped slightly at his voice and his proximity. "Excuse me?"

"I need to wash my hair," he said, as if it was no big deal, fAmandang into step with her easily.

"Hot date?" she teased. As soon as the words were out of her mouth, the blush returned to her face, as she realized what she had said. Her mind was on the topics from the shower room, whether she was ready to admit it or not. _Damn Tracy and Amanda!_

"Wow, Claire, I'm surprised how forward you are," he feigned shock. She put her hand on her face, trying to hide her blush, as they continued walking. "After today at the park, I thought it would take a bit more work on my part, but if you insist. Pick you up at eight?"

"Funny."

"Not really. I'm a reformed serial killer. It doesn't fit with my character."

She didn't say anything. She wasn't sure how to navigate this. They had just gotten to the friend stage. At least she thought they were in the friend stage. Was saving her life the turning point of the friend stage? After his admission earlier, she wasn't sure. Was he honestly trying to get her to go out with him? A date seemed such a silly word to describe whatever he had planned. It seemed too common and immature. Gabriel was anything but those things.

She had seen how other women were around him. He was attractive. That wasn't a question. He received attention from all the females at the carnival, including those that were much too old or far too young for him. Even now, as they walked through the living quarters area, she noticed some jealous stares.

"Eight is a little early. Ten?"

"What?"

She had barely heard his question. It had been years since she had been on a date. West had been her last real relationship, besides her fling with Gretchen. It had gone up in flames just as quickly as it had started. She was still nervous when it came to dating and guys in general. She didn't have the best track record. Not to mention she hadn't been alone outside the carnival since she arrived, with the exception of Peter's wedding.

"Ten o'clock?"

"You're serious?"

"You should wear that red dress from your freshmen year at college. The one you wore to the sorority gathering."

"How do you even know about that?"

He tapped his head. "I see the entire history of any item I touch." She thought back to his file, the one the Company had had on him. There had been a time she had been able to glance through it briefly when the files had been in her possession, after her father's death. She didn't recall seeing any indication of a historical ability. "Thank your grandmother for that one."

"Figures," she muttered, shaking her head. She added it to the list of things about Angela Petrelli she knew, but wished she didn't. Even though she had kept her distance from her dysfunctional family, they had a way of still getting to her. "I'm not really into wearing dresses."

"Pity. Red is the perfect color for you."

She felt heat rising in her cheeks. How could he be so charming? It was hard to focus on responding to him when all she could hear was Tracy, Amanda, and even Micah telling her that he was staying at the carnival for her. She needed to find a less distracting topic. She stopped, pivoting slightly to face him. "Are we talking about clothes or body fluids now?"

"Touche," he chuckled.

They fell into silence as they walked. Claire recalled how it had felt to be in his arms when he carried her home last night. He had been strong, though gentle. He had been extremely cautious in how he held her, making sure not to rock her or hold her unevenly, as she had regain composure from the attack. His skin had been warm, not cold as she had anticipated. Despite their past encounters, when he had helped her up, she had felt safe. A calmness had spread over her. Her body had eased into him. This afternoon when he had put his arm around her, it wasn't dominating or controlling. It was protecting, comforting. She wondered how it would feel to be wrapped up in both of his arms, to be held the way she had seen men hold women in the movies. The circumstances were extremely different.

"Thinking about me?"

"No."

Claire noticed the genuine smile forming on his face. "Liar." He called her out on it.

"Are you flirting with me?" It was a half laugh, half question.

"Depends," he countered. "Is it working?"

The smile stayed on her face, as she walked ahead of him. It was hard to get rid of. She could see her trailer now. She was grateful the walk was coming to an end. Lying wouldn't get her out of this situation, which was a problem. She normally was able to lie through her teeth and either get what she wanted or at least get out of it. She didn't have that luxury with him. Claire still wasn't certain how she felt about Gabriel.

There was an attraction. She couldn't deny it. The feeling was strong and exciting, as if he was still a forbidden part of her life. She had always been drawn to guys who were dangerous. There was a thrill in the possibility of being caught or doing what her father thought was wrong. It made things interesting.

Gabriel was following her. It was strangely exhilarating to have him chasing after her. She didn't answer as she opened the door to her trailer.

"Is it?"

She glanced over her shoulder at him. "Guess you'll just have to find out."

The door slammed behind her and he yelled. "You could give me a yes or a no answer."

She poked her head back out the door. "Where's the fun in that? You'd be able to tell if I'm lying." She tossed him an object before she shut the door again, snapping the lock in place loudly. Through the side window, she watched him glance down to look at the object he had thrown. After a moment of realization, he grinned at the bottle of shampoo.

"Ten it is."

* * *

Gabriel paced back and forth in Micah's trailer. The teen was busy typing lines of code, oblivious to his temporary roommate's distress.

"Why don't you take her into town? Find a nice restaurant?"

Gabriel didn't feel that suggestion even warranted a response. He had been so close to getting Claire to let him in earlier. When she had begun to lean forward, actively in their conversation, he had felt the pull, the need to be closer to her. It wasn't his drive to keep her safe, or his guilt for what he had done in the past drawing him to her to prove himself. This was something entirely new.

He had heard Peter talk about what it had felt like to fall for Emma. Peter had expressed it as an obsession, an undying need to constantly be with her, talking to her, seeing her. It came along with a protective, undeniable urge to take care of and help her as well. Gabriel had thought it was due to Peter's ability to be emphatic to others, whether they were Specials or not. Now, after spending most of the day with Claire, he understood that wasn't the case. He stopped walking.

He was fAmandang in love with her.

Though he had never truly believed Claire would accept him, he had been aware that one day he could fall for her. His need to prove himself, to right the wrongs he had committed against her had been one layer of his obsession with her. He had gotten himself in much deeper now.

"It needs to be special," he stated, resuming his pacing.

A knock sounded on the door. Micah jumped, finally seeming to take in his surroundings. Gabriel opened the door, revealing Amanda. "Hey boys," she grinned. "What are you up to?"

"Trying to upgrade security," Micah answered quickly, but his eyes had settled on Amanda instead of his computer screen. What Claire had mentioned earlier made sense to Gabriel. It finally clicked. Micah was trying to impress Amanda.

"I'm taking Claire out tonight."

"Really?" Amanda's eyes lit up. "She didn't tell me. Where are you taking her?"

"I don't know. I'm still working on that…and working on convincing her to come along."

Amanda crossed her arms over her chest. She was obviously annoyed. "Don't tell me you are taking her into town and going to eat?" She gave Micah a pointed looked, which Gabriel didn't miss.

"No."

"Good." She leaned back against the wall, facing both of them. "Do you have any ideas?"

"I want it to be special. Do you have any ideas?"

"There is one place Claire mentions from time to time." Amanda grinned. "But it's tricky."

"Why?"

"Do you have a plane?"

"Not exactly."

* * *

Amanda's knock came hard on Claire's door. She quickly moved to answer, letting her friend inside. "Hey."

"Hey."

"Staying in?"

"Yeah, most of the kids are packing for the move, so I'm off signing duty for the night." Claire took a seat on her bed, closing the book she had been reading. "How about you?"

"Same," Amanda agreed. "I thought we could have a fun girls night."

Claire smiled. Being a cheerleader had meant she spent a lot of time around girls, but she had had very few girls that were her actual friends. Having Amanda was like having a younger sister, one who liked to do hair, make-up, and other things Claire hadn't had much experience with when she had been in Texas or Costa Verde. It was fun to be able to relax in her home, a place she had made her own by decorating and securing her own furnishings. It was even more fun to be able to share the space with her friend while doing activities she had never had the opportunity for before.

"Can I do your hair?" Amanda made a pouty face, similar to Ryan's. Claire relented easily, knowing Amanda often asked to be able to work on her tresses. "Can I put it up?"

"Sure," Claire easily agreed. She loved when people played with her hair. It was soothing. It reminded her of her mother. She made a mental note to call her mom soon and check in on how she was doing.

While Amanda worked, she chatted away, discussing where they were heading tomorrow, what she wanted to check out in the new town, and the tidbits of gossip she had heard throughout the day. Claire tuned it out, her thoughts focusing on Gabriel's question from the afternoon. Did they belong together? Had someone asked her that a week ago she would have laughed at them and told them to have their head checked. Now, she wasn't as sure.

Gabriel was extremely gracious and attentive. He picked up on emotions and cues from people without much explanation. He wasn't pushy or overbearing but he had a good sense of humor. She had found herself smiling a lot throughout the day, mostly due to what he had said. The only drawback was his intent to single-out her attacker. It wasn't his drive so much as his manner that had worried her. His determination was a good quality, but how he had changed, the tone of his voice and stiffness in his body had triggered memories of her father. Those memories were not positive.

Noah Bennet had been devoted to his family. At the center of all his work, his intentions were pure. Claire knew that. She didn't agree with his methods. She didn't agree with the Company either. After seeing first hand how people were treated, even the Level 5 offenders such as Doyle, she had lost her trust in Angela, her father, and everyone else who worked for the Company. Seeing the same emotionless, calculating side of Gabriel scared her. Past encounters had shown her that he could be a cold-blooded killer, but this was a different kind of detachment.

"Let's put some music," Amanda jolted her from her thoughts. "It's too quiet." She moved around the room, shuffling through Claire's iPod until she found a song she liked. "What do you think?" she asked, returning to Claire's side with a hand mirror.

Claire observed her reflection in the mirror. Amanda had pulled her wavy hair back, twisting several sections of it back and combining them all into a messy bun, which was pinned together at the back of her head. It was modern, but classy, very appropriate for a night out. She felt a little guilty seeing the amount of work Amanda had put into it, knowing no one but them would see it. It was such a waste.

"It's beautiful," she smiled, putting on a happy face for her friend.

"Now for makeup!" Amanda took off for the bathroom.

"Wait, what about your hair?" Claire called after her.

"You can do it when I'm done. I want to put the whole look together," Amanda explained, returning with Claire's make-up bag. She began riffling through, pulling out what she wanted and tossing other items back in, carelessly.

Amanda worked carefully and slowly. Claire felt as if she was painting her face on. The brushes were light and tickled her skin. She wasn't used to having someone put her makeup on for her. It felt strange. Amanda was gentle. Her touches were light and she only applied a little bit of color to Claire's face, until she came to her lips. Then she chose to use the red lipstick Claire had gotten in college, but had never worn. There was something about red lipstick and that seemed to evoke confidence, at least that's how the commercials made her feel. She had never conducted a field test.

A knock came at the door. Amanda's face broke into a huge grin. Claire didn't understand, but she followed behind, intrigued. Amanda opened the door, revealing Gabriel standing outside in a full suite. It was black or possibly navy, it was hard to tell in the dark. Either way, he was clean shaven, hair slicked back, and dressed for a specific purpose. Suddenly, Amanda's attention to her appearance made sense.

"Ten o'clock on the dot," he grinned. He took in her attire. "Did I miss the memo on the PJ party?"

Claire backed up a step, feeling her cheeks burn as she realized she was still in her pajamas.

"One sec," Amanda quickly announced, pulling the door shut and shoving Claire back.

"I can't go out there."

"Yes you can and you will," Amanda snapped, not looking at Claire. She was too focused on the outfits in Claire's small closet. "Now put this on." She turned around, holding out a hanger with the red dress Gabriel had referenced earlier.

"Amanda-."

"Claire Bennet, you're going to go and you're going to have a fun. Do you hear me?"

"Yes."

"It's not every day a guy comes to pick you up dressed in a suit and planning on taking you somewhere fantastic." She leaned forward, getting very close to Claire's face. "Enjoy it."

"Ok," Claire breathed, moving aside to the bathroom to get changed. She felt there was more to Amanda's word than her friend was telling her, but at the moment she was far too nervous to think about it clearly.

As she looked at her reflection in the mirror she realized that Amanda had done an incredible job. She still looked like herself, but she did appear slightly older, more confident. It was impressive. At the very least, she looked the part. Inside, she was a bundle of nerves. Her arms shook slightly as she slipped into the dress, not surprised to find that it still fit perfectly.

"Zip me up?" she asked her friend, as she exited.

"Enjoy," Amanda whispered in her ear, complying.

Claire nodded, more to herself than to her friend. "Thank you," she said, turning over her shoulder to look at Amanda. Her friend gave her a reassuring smile and gave her a light push out the door.

"Ready to go?"

"I thought you were joking."

He ignored her comment. "May I?" he asked, gesturing to her.

She nodded again, not sure what else to say.

Effortlessly, he scooped her up, holding her the same as he had the night before. She gave him a quizzical expression, not understanding. "We need to fly," he offered. "And though I'm happy to see you took my advice on the dress, I'd rather no one see what's beneath it. I'm sure you agree?" He was so sure of himself, not nervous at all. Claire felt like a ball of nerves next to him.

"Where are we going?"

"How does Paris sound?" He grinned down at her.

Claire smiled back at him, despite her nerves. Amanda was right. She was going to enjoy this.

* * *

_**A/N: Black Out Days is now up. This one-shot is a darker story than I normally write, so I am open to feedback. If you love it, tell me why. If you hate it, I'd appreciate knowing why you hate it. I respect your opinion, but I'd like details around it. Thank you in advance!**_


	10. Realization

**Chapter Ten: Realization**

_"And I'd give up forever to touch you 'cause I know that you feel me somehow. You're the closest to heaven that I'll ever be and I don't want to go home right now. And all I can taste is this moment. And all I can breathe is your life. And sooner or later it's over. I just don't wanna miss you tonight." - Goo Goo Dolls_

A knock came at the host's office door. After a moment of silence, the individual entered. "M'am?"

"Yes," the woman answered.

"He hasn't checked in."

"He will."

"It's been over 24 hours."

"Send an extraction team in. I want this wrapped up."

"Yes, M'am." When the individual didn't move, she raised her eyes from her desk, her gaze menacing.

"Was there something else?"

"How do you want to handle the others?"

"Eliminate them."

"Excuse me, M'am. Won't that cause complications?"

"Eliminate them all," she seethed. "If you ask again, I'll add your name to the list. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes."

* * *

Sylar enjoyed flying. It was his favorite ability, next to telekinesis. The air brushed past him, whipping his hair back and causing his clothes to flutter. In his arms, Claire was watching the carnival disappear below them in awe. He knew she had flown before with both Peter and Nathan, but this would be a new experience for her. He wanted it to be memorable.

She was quite while they flew, her eyes watching the tiny lights below and the cities and towns that appeared to be no more than miniature replicas. The silent distraction gave him the opportunity to watch her. Shards of light from the stars and moon illuminated her smooth skin. He liked how her hair was pulled up and braided, especially the small wisps that had come undone in the wind, tickling the sides of her face.

Since Paris was eight hours ahead of Snake River, it was dark when they arrived. He hoped she didn't notice how he had leveraged Hiro's teleporting ability once they were above the clouds. He had to take a short-cut in order to arrive on time for what he had planned. He touched down in Champ de Mars, making sure to keep Claire's back toward his surprise. She had been so amazed by the lights of the romantic city. Gabriel set her down, sliding his hand over her eyes.

"What are you-."

"Trust me," he told her, guiding her and turning her around. He waited a few moments, while she nervously leaned from side to side, under his hold. No one was around. The park was empty, except for a few sleeping pigeons and them. There was some traffic on Quai d'Orsay, but the noise didn't seem to bother Claire. Then, seeing the beginning of the show, he removed his hand. "Viola!"

Claire didn't say a word. Her eyes were on the twinkling blue and gold lights that covered the famous Eiffel Tower at the end of the park. The lights were set to go off every hour on the hour and caused the metal monument to look as if it was sparkling in the night. Claire's face blossomed into a large smile as she took in the sight. Gabriel's eyes never left her.

"Impressed?" he asked, when the lights returned to their normal gold gleam.

"When you said Paris, I thought you were joking."

"Didn't we already go through this?" he teased. "It doesn't fit with my character."

"I can't believe we really flew all the way," she remarked, walking away down the park's sidewalk to get close to the Eiffel Tower. "Isn't it normally an eight hour flight by plane?"

Gabriel deadpanned. He should have figured Claire wouldn't let a detail like that go unnoticed. "I haven't ever had the luxury," he responded, not lying but not answering her either.

"It's my first time too," she gave him a shy smile. "Europe wasn't in the Bennet family budget. Even if it had been, my dad would have never approved. Too flashy."

"Not on Noah Bennet's list of safe, acceptable family vacations?"

Her face fell a little, as she recalled living with her father. "No, even when Angela suggested I go, he wasn't thrilled with the idea."

"Not surprising."

"No," she smiled again, "But this is." She stood still, admiring the site. Suddenly, she turned around and faced him. "Why me?"

"Excuse me?"

She raised an eyebrow at him, obviously knowing he had heard her clearly. "Why me?" she repeated. "You said it was because we have the same blocks and because you needed a connection to survive immortality." He stayed silent, watching how animated her face became as she spoke. Her hands were at her sides, but they were beginning to twitch, as if she would rather be gesturing. "If that was it, if that was your reason, then why do this? Why go through all this trouble?"

He paused, unsure with how truthful he could be with her. Being open about his level of affection for her could backfire horribly. She hadn't had the time to know him the way he knew her. She hadn't been waiting the past five years for this chance. He needed to tread carefully. Their interactions were more frequent and growing more positive, but one wrong step and he knew his relationship with her would be over.

Claire would see through him if he lied and although she didn't have the ability to decipher truth from fabrication, he knew she understood him well enough to be able to tell the difference. The building blocks were the same and Samuel had proven to him years ago that he required another person to be close to.

Peter was his salvation, in a manner of speaking. The time they had spent together locked in Parkman's prison had illustrated all of his fears to him. Once Peter arrived, he understood how vital it was to have a friend, someone to keep him grounded. But friendship had it limits and it hadn't taken him long to realize that his connection with Peter was not the full commitment he had been searching for. That was something only Claire could achieve.

"I'll answer your question, if you answer mine." He offered.

Nodding, she said. "That's fair."

He answered bluntly with no extra finesse. "I care for you."

Her face was unreadable. The smile was gone, but she wasn't frightened or skeptical, as he had expected.

Gabriel didn't give her time to ponder over his answer. He didn't want her to overthink it. "Why did you vote in my favor?"

Her gaze shifted. "Everyone deserves a second chance."

The mood became serious. He could see her thinking about things, possibly reliving memories of their past encounters, before Peter and Emma's wedding. If their roles had been reversed, he didn't know how he would feel. Losing his biological father wouldn't have been an issue. Samson Gray hadn't been particularly loving or compassionate. He had turned out to be a cold-blooded killer. _Like father, like son_, he mused, bitterly. Gabriel couldn't remember his real mother, only Virginia, and she had been terrified of what he could do.

Forcing himself not to think about that, he found himself recalling the day he had visited Claire at her college. She had been so angry with him, so full of determination. He knew she was a fighter, but she had still caught him off guard when she shoved the pencil in his eye. He found himself holding back a chuckle. She could be unpredictable. It was one of the reasons he loved to toy with her. The outcome was always amusing.

He felt his face break into a grin. "I might be on my third or fourth by now."

"Nobody's perfect." She shrugged, matching his grin. Her eyes came to focus back on his face. The tension dissipated. "So, what's next?" she asked, the last of the nerves gone.

"We are in Paris," he commented, causing her to roll her eyes at his obvious statement. "I say we make the most of it and our powers." She raised an eyebrow. "At least for one night," he added. "We have these powers for a reason. It would be a shame for them to go untapped." He watched her smile grow, as she began walking towards the Eiffel Tower. "And as an added bonus, I'm fairly certain Noah Bennet wouldn't approve of any of this."

She laughed. "I like the way you think."

* * *

Claire found Gabriel fell in step with her rather easily as they walked around the Eiffel Tower. The light show had ended. They were left standing alone under the great structure, marveling at how such a piece had been constructed with the limited tools and technology. It was inspiring to see. She imagined how proud the builders must have been when they saw it come full circle. Stealing a quick glance up at Gabriel, she realized in their own way they were coming full circle too.

They strolled across the Seine river to the Champe Elysees and to the Louvre. Though the museum was closed, they were able to walk around the stone courtyard, admiring the brilliant design of the glass pyramids, which gave them a glance into the underground collection. Claire had always wanted to go inside and see the famous Mona Lisa painting. There was a fine line between using their powers for fun and doing something illegal. She opted against voicing her desire to see the painting. After all, she had eternity to return and go inside during normal viewing hours.

When they reached Notre Dame cathedral, the structure was more detailed and elaborate than Claire had anticipated. The sun was coming up now, lighting up the different depths of the carved stone. Pictures didn't do it justice. The architecture was far more grand than the churches in New York city. She had been inside large churches before, but none that compared to what stood before her now. They walked around the entire monument. Claire especially liked the back of the cathedral, where the flying buttresses came out.

Gabriel had remained silent while they wandered through the city, hitting all the major attractions. He had allowed her to lead, only breaking the quiet to help her avoid traffic or point out a feature she might have otherwise missed. He stood next to her now, admiring the chapel. Unlike his normal stance, which reminded her of a predator lying in wait, he appeared relaxed and approachable. A normal guy out in the middle of the night for a stroll.

"What do you think?" he asked, his eyes looking up at the top of the towers. When she didn't answer right away, he pointed up. Since she had passed up the Mona Lisa, Claire considered flying to the top of this Paris monument a worthy swap.

"I'm game."

No sooner were the words out of her mouth, then he was hoisting her up and they were in the air. He had no problem with initiating contact with her. There was no hesitation on his part. Claire had to admit she liked being held. When she had flown with her father or Peter, it had been fun. Flying with Gabriel was more intimate. She was more conscious of how her body felt against his, the heat radiating off of him, his scent.

As he set her down, she once again realized how easy it was for her to relax with him. It seemed surreal, considering the short time in which they had been together, working towards this friendship, though she wasn't sure how to classify what they were. It was a bit like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. The underlying characteristics were still the same, but overall, he was a different person. Maybe it was just how she saw him.

From the top of the cathedral, she could see out around the city. Certain spectacles, such as the Eiffel Tower, stood out prominently, while others, like Sacré Cœur were harder to recognize in the distance. The lights on the gargoyle's faces were meant to be scary, but seeing them up close the were almost comical to her. Their features were over exaggerated, with a hint of loneliness. They were stuck here for eternity. She understood the beauty and pain in that.

They were situated amongst some of the most exquisite food, fashion, and architecture in the world. They could partake from afar, but they were limited in their experience. Despite their limitations, they would outlive any restaurant, fashion trend, and several buildings. They would still be sitting here when the end of the world arrived, with a front row seat. Claire felt much the same way. The pain she felt wasn't from physical injury. The mental stress and emotional downward spiral that came with her situation was the human factor. Gabriel had that factor as well.

"Thank you for this," she said. He inclined his face to look at her. "This was the perfect way to do this."

"No crowds."

She nodded. "It's like my own personal tour of Paris. Everything is so peaceful, like it's frozen in time. There's just one thing I don't get." He raised an eyebrow. "Why did we need to dress up?"

He grinned. "I got us a reservation."

"For dinner?" she scuffed. "I think we may have missed it."

"No, breakfast," he corrected her. "The most important meal of the day."

He navigated them from the cathedral back across the river to Breizh Cafe. It was a warm establishment, very elegant. Claire was glad she had worn her red dress, as he had suggested. The other women in the restaurant were dressed to perfection. Some had magnificent jewelry, while others had woven expensive silk scarves around them. She felt a little out of her league watching them. Interestingly enough, they were watching her, or more specifically, who she was with.

All the female eyes were on Gabriel, as he gently placed his hand on the small of her back, guiding her forward to an empty table in the back corner. One lady, even lowered her sunglasses and peered over at them as they passed by. Claire gotten used to the looks he received at the carnival. Part of her had assumed it was because he was so powerful, like a caged tiger, but seeing him out amongst regular people, she realized it was more than that.

Gabriel was attractive. That much hadn't changed. He was also confident and that confidence was a different type of power. Claire envied him in a way. She had tried to be tough, learning how to fight from her bio-mom and taking kickboxing classes had helped, but she still felt like that little cheerleader from back in Texas some days. The world seemed so huge, so full of opportunity, but also pain and fear. It was a see-saw of her ambition and her cautious nature.

When the waitress came over to take their order, she never once looked at Claire. Her attention was solely on the ex-serial killer. She wanted to laugh about the strange series of events leading up to this moment. Instead, she felt annoyed. Maybe it was the lack of sleep catching up with her. She gave her order quickly and crossed her arms over her chest as she sat back in her seat.

"Sweet tooth?" Claire had decided on the chocolate with fresh berries crepe. She merely nodded, not sure why she felt so irritated. "Is something wrong?"

"No," she replied, softly, feeling silly. She forced herself to lower her arms. The women in the restaurant had mostly gone back to their meals and drinks. This was one of her small-town cheerleader moments. She couldn't believe she was getting flustered over some strangers and their fascination with Gabriel Gray.

"Jealous?" She refused to answer. He began to smirk. "Let's have some fun," he whispered, sliding his arm around her and leaning in close, his back to everyone else. He brought his other arm up on the table in front of her to hold her hand. Then he moved closer, only inches away from her face. Now the eyes in the cafe were on her. Claire felt herself blushing at the spectacle he was purposely making.

"Did you ever think you'd be here with me?"

"No," she breathed, her eyes locked on his.

"Damn," he feigned annoyance. "I thought the stalking would have had a better return on investment."

She laughed.

"Guess the cutting open your head didn't work either."

"Nope."

"I must be losing my edge."

By the time the waitress returned with their order, Claire didn't recall why she had been mad. Gabriel continued in his charade, cutting up her crepe and feeding it to her. When the chocolate sauce dripped off onto her chin, he brought his mouth right up to her skin. Claire inhaled sharply, unsure of what he was doing. He raised the pad of this thumb and wiped it away. It was in that moment that she became aware that she had wanted him to kiss her.

The blush on her cheeks burned furiously. She pulled back. There had been times she had done things just to prove a point. She wanted to believe that was why she wanted the kiss. She wanted to convince herself it was to make these other women jealous. She wanted to be in control and to have the power for a change. She wanted to show them that he was here with her, not them and prove it to herself at the same time.

But she wasn't being honest with herself.

* * *

Gabriel had noticed the change in Claire instantly. The light in her eyes disappeared and her smile fell. He relinquished his hold on her fork, watching her finish off her crepes quickly. She kept her eyes down on the table. He shifted back in his seat, removing his arm from her. He asked for the bill when the waitress came back to check on them. Claire barely noticed.

She led the way out of the cafe, holding her arms around herself. There was no clear direction to her wandering. She was deep in though, not conscious of where they were or what was going on around them. He tried to understand what he had done wrong to derail their game. Claire had been all for it and he had been more than willing to keep it going. Now, he felt as if he was grasping at straws to get back to where they had been.

The weather was slightly chilly in the early morning. "Here," he shrugged off his jacket, laying it over her shoulders. She thanked him, smiling and fell in step with him as they continued walking. Her pace was slower than before. He recognized how late it was. Possibly, that explained her mood, but he wasn't holding his breath.

He indicated a park bench near the river. She welcomed the opportunity to sit down and watch the boats. There were ducks on the river as well. Remaining in silence, they watched the dance of the man-made vessels shifting across the water, while the smaller animals darted in between and around. Behind them, shops and cafes were opening up and the streets were becoming busier with people waking up. The city had it's own unique sounds as it came to life. The peaceful nighttime setting had dissolved into a busier, crowded capital.

Claire leaned into him. The weight of her head falling on the upper portion of his arm. She had fallen asleep in his presence, obviously comfortable with him. He hadn't been expecting it. He wanted her trust and her acceptance, but he didn't anticipate it would happen so suddenly. Her breathing was slow and deep, signaling she was out.

His mind went utterly blank and he sat there dumbfounded for a moment. In his experience, moments like this didn't last. They were either a trick, pre-manufactured for an underlying purpose, or they were a dream. The reality of the situation was that she trusted him. It was a high-point for the evening. Despite the fact that she wasn't awake, he had succeeded in taking their relationship further. Whatever issue had arose earlier was obviously gone now, or at least it wasn't prominent enough to keep her from letting herself fall asleep.

He shifted slightly, wrapping his arms around to lift her up. Flying would wake her up. He began walking down the street, noting the lack of passerbys, as he rounded the corner into a narrower alley. After a quick check, he teleported back to the carnival grounds.

It was very quiet for once. There were no game sounds, no vendors calling out to potential customers, and no animals rustling around. Everyone was either asleep or powering down for the night. Gabriel made his way to Claire's trailer, using telekinesis to open the door. He had been surprised by how homey she had made the mobile home feel. The shelves had pictures of her with her carnival friends and pictures of her with her mother and brother and even their small dog, Mr. Muggles. He had noted there were no pictures of Noah anywhere.

Gently, he placed her down on her bed, keeping his jacket wrapped around her. He decided to leave it there. Smell was a powerful scent tied to memory. He wanted her to remember being taken care of, being safe, because he wanted more nights like this. Being able to share an experience with her, alone, away from this place where it was all about being a Special made him feel unique. It made him appreciate his abilities more, because it gave him the chance to show her places and things she would otherwise be unable to take part in. It gave him purpose.

He wrestled with the idea of staying. The attack was still unaccounted for. No one had taken responsibility for the assault. It concerned him. The couch would have been comfortable enough for him to sleep on. He had, at times, slept on much worse. After Claire's mood change in the cafe, he decided against it. He let himself out of the trailer, making sure to lock it behind him.

* * *

Peter Petrelli saw the noise of his cellphone before he recognized the sound of the ringtone. It was early, or late depending on his EMT schedule, but today it happened to be early. He figured it would be Gabe, following up on Claire and the attack. Though he was correct about the caller, the reason for the call was not what he was expecting.

"Did you find any leads?"

"Hello to you too," his friend responded sarcastically. "Guess we're skipping the pleasantries today."

"Someone is hunting Specials, my niece in particular."

Peter had been riding a wave of anxiety and over-protectiveness since Gabriel had given him news of the attack at the carnival. As unsettling as it was, the fact that he hadn't been able to identify where the attack originated from was even more puzzling. He was concerned for Emma's safety, as well as Claire's. His mother hadn't seemed surprised by the turn of events, which had made him dig deeper into the Company, but he had discovered nothing. He was beginning to feel lost.

"No one will hurt Claire on my watch," he assured his friend. "She's actually the reason I called."

"Did she remember more?"

"No." Gabriel paused on the other end. "We went on a date. I took her out last night."

Peter tried to process the last two sentences. His mind had been focused on the attack. He had not spent any time wondering how his friend was doing with his other mission. Though Gabriel had changed, Peter understood the time it took to heal the wounds left from his prior rampage. He had had years to think through the actions and forgive. Claire had only had weeks. "Voluntarily?"

"Yes."

"Where did you take her?"

"Paris." The youngest Petrelli didn't know how to respond. When he had finally had time to take Emma out, he had taken her to a nice restaurant in the city with a decent Zagat rating. It was the best his minimal EMT salary could provide, but she liked it. After that night, they had gone on seeing each other regularly until they decided to take it to the next step. "Peter?"

"I hope you don't mean the city in France."

"That's the one."

"Aiming a bit high aren't you? Where are you going to take her next? Venice?"

"Possibly."

"Be serious."

"I am. You know how I feel about her."

"But how does she feel about you?"

"I guess we'll see," he answered, his voice becoming softer. "I'll let you know if I find out anything more about the attack. Say hi to Emma for me."

"Sure. Gabe?"

"Yeah?"

"One more thing."

"You don't have to tell me to be safe, Peter."

"I wasn't going to," he chuckled. "But I was going to remind you about Matt's vowel renewal."

"Parkman is doing what?"

"Didn't you see the invite?"

"I haven't really been checking my mail," he admitted. "Just bills and important stuff."

"This is important to Matt."

"Fine," Gabriel sighed. "When is it?"

"Saturday in California." Peter waited, then added. "You could bring Claire. The invitation said 'plus one'. At least that's what Matt told me when he called to see if you were coming yesterday."

"Tell Parkman to keep his pants on. I'll be there."

There was a click and the call ended. Peter put the cell down, replaying the conversation in his head. He was happy for his friend, but still concerned. He knew Gabriel. After spending five years together, he knew more than he cared to. Gabriel regretted his former actions. He had been working to right the wrongs since he had had his epiphany. Peter knew his feelings for Claire are sound. He was worried that Gabriel was trying too hard, offering grand dates, large gifts, and anything else he deemed worthy of Claire as a way to compensate for the pain he had caused her.

But Peter knew Claire as well. At her core, she was simple. She valued integrity, her family, and honesty. She may have been delighted for an extravagant night out, but if Gabe kept taking her to European cities, she was eventually going to question his motives.

He had seen it happen countless times before with Noah and Nathan. They wanted to control Claire, please her, and mold her. They had showered her with expensive and lavish gifts, but it had backfired. She had eventually found out about their lies, their cover-ups, and plans for her. It had made her resent them. She no longer trusted Noah, to the point she had stopped speaking to him. Peter was afraid if Gabe didn't learn to contain his opulent attempts to please Claire, she would begin to look further into his actions. If she found out about any unseemly activity, she would not be able to forgive him.

He'd lose her trust and potentially the entire relationship he was attempting so desperately to build.


	11. Renewal

**Chapter 11: Renewal**

"_This couldn't be more unexpected and I can tell that I've been moving in so slow. Don__'__t let it throw you off too far __'__cause I'll be running right behind you. Could this be out of line? To say you're the only one breaking me down like this? You__'__re the only one I would take a shot on, keep me hanging on so contagiously.__" __\- Acceptance_

"We are late," Gabriel called to Claire.

They had arrived in California only a few hours before. Not being able to fly to the location caused them to waste more time driving and less time being able to mingle with anyone they knew. Once they had checked in, they had immediately gone to their room to get ready for the ceremony. Claire had locked herself in the bathroom only moments after that. Gabriel was glad he had had the idea to shower earlier that morning at his place in New York before they left. There was no way he was getting one before tonight's festivities.

Getting away from the carnival was nice. Having some alone time with Claire was even nicer. She had been more open with him since their time in Paris. He noticed it was easier for them to hold a conversation, though normally they spent the time discussing more upgrades for the carnival or teasing one another. It was all friendly, maybe too friendly. He had limited experience with romantic relationships and what experience he had was tainted by his previous murdering rebellion.

He was securing the button on his dress shirt when she emerged. She had pulled her hair back into a high bun. There were a few tendrils falling on either sides of her face. She had on a short black lace dress and heels. As she walked towards him, she picked up a black blazer and handbag.

After watching her over the last several weeks at the carnival, he had grown accustomed to seeing her in jeans and boots or Amanda's hand-me downs, which like her mother's style, was more open and free-flowing. Staring at her now, he could see the subtle and not-so-subtle curves of her body under the tight fabric.

Her eyes, outlined in black, were on him. "Ready?"

"It's good you wore heels," he teased, slipping into his own black jacket. Once glance at her legs and he was beginning to lose control. He needed to advert his attention elsewhere, and Claire's, lest she figure out where his mind really was right now.

"Are you saying I'm short?" she cried incredulously.

Mission accomplished. He shrugged. "Not to someone like Mr. Muggles, but to the rest of us."

"I am not that short," she snapped, punching him playfully in the arm. He didn't miss the grin on her face.

He enjoyed teasing her. In the beginning their exchanges were difficult. He had walked on eggshells quite often. He had been careful to avoid any sensitive subjects, of which there were too many to name. Eventually, when she had let him in their banter grew more common and playful. Now he derived pleasure from rising to the occasion. He enjoyed seeing her smile, seeing her happy.

"If you say so."

His smirk widened, as she stepped in front of him, arms crossed over her chest. She could be so predictable. "I'm tall enough," she stated evenly with an 'I-told-you-so' look of defiance on her face. She was facing his chest, barely to his shoulders, which made him chuckle.

"Just don't take those off," he motioned to her heels. "I won't be able to find you."

"You couldn't just say, 'Hey Claire, you look really nice', huh?" she said, putting her hands on her hips. Her smile was gone, replaced with irritation. He thought he was being quite careless and transparent with his feelings for Claire. Everyone at the carnival had made comments. He thought everyone knew including Claire, especially after Paris. Apparently, that wasn't true. When he didn't respond right away, she dropped her defensive stance. "Never mind. It's not important."

"Am I missing something?" he asked.

"No." She shook her head, turning around and began walking out of the room. He felt the instant tingle of one his abilities. She was lying. It was the first time she had let her guard down enough to forget about it. Her misstep confirmed she had no idea how he felt about her.

"Claire," he reached out, gently taking her arm. His voice was softer now. Clearly, the joking was done. She pivoted around, looking up at him. He stepped forward, lessening the space that separated them. She was staring at him, not speaking. She looked at him as if she was seeing him for the first time.

Gabriel slowly place his other hand on the small of her back, bending down. He expected her to pull away or ask him to stop. She didn't move. Her eyes were watching him expectantly. He bent his head down, eliminating any remaining space. He dropped his hand from her arm, moving to cradle her face. His lips touched hers and he felt her stiffen slightly. The pad of his thumb softly stroked an arching line across her cheekbone. After a few strokes, she relaxed into him.

"That should have been our first kiss," he breathed.

She nodded as she put her hands on either side of his face. Carefully, she guided him back down to her. He breathed in her light, fruity scent. Her skin was warm against him and he could feel her fingers moving back through his hair. The gentle massaging motion was hypnotic. He could no longer decipher who was kissing who. And he didn't care.

A sharp knock sounded.

If Claire had noticed the noise, she didn't respond. Her lips were moving against his, deliberate and inviting. He followed suit, ignoring it. After a pause, he heard a familiar voice. "Gabriel, are you in there? Matt is waiting to start." Mohinder's thick accent came through the door. He inwardly groaned. Suresh had the worst timing. _Matt better be dying or dead. _He was about to telepathically put the "Do Not Disturb" sign out on the door. Maybe then the doctor would understand.

"You were right," she breathed, pulling back slightly. "We are late."

He dropped his forehead to rest on top of her head with a sign. "I'm sorry," he said, darkly.

"Why?"

"I'm going to kill him."

"Be nice," she warned him, returning to the bathroom to check her make-up. "He's your friend."

"Friends are overrated." He muttered. He checked his tie in the mirror once more before answering the door.

"There you are," Mohinder welcomed him, as he exited the hotel room.

"I lost track of the time," he replied, curtly.

"Really?" The Indian didn't seem to believe him. "I didn't realize a watchmaker could-." He stopped speaking when he saw Claire enter the corridor, shutting the door behind her. "Claire?"

"Hi Mohinder," she greeted him with a quick hug. The doctor looked from Claire to Gabriel and back to Claire with a puzzled expression.

"The invitation said Gabriel Gray plus one," he offered.

"Of course," Mohinder nodded to himself. "I'll tell Matt we can get started."

Gabriel offered his arm to her. "Shall we?"

* * *

The ceremony was brief, but classic. A small string quartet, Angela's gift for the occasion, played in the corner. The decorations were not overbearing or expensive, which fit with Matt's personality. Claire especially enjoyed when little Matt Parkman, who Hiro still referred to as 'Baby Matt Parkman' ran to his father, not waiting for the music to end before delivering the anniversary band Matt had bought Janice.

Despite the obvious beauty of the event, Claire was distracted. Her thoughts were focused on what had transpired only moments earlier between her and Gabriel. Her heart was beating rapidly in her chest. Her entire body felt as if she had been hit with one of Elle's electric bolts. It was as if her blood was humming. Sitting still was difficult with so many thoughts rushing through her head and so many unanswered questions lingering.

Had he planned this? Was this the real reason had had shown up at carnival? Did Peter know? Would any of this have happened if she hadn't gone to the wedding? What would Amanda and Micah say when she told them? What would Edgar do? Was Gabriel ever going back to New York? Would he stay at the carnival with her? Did she want him to? Did he want her to? Did he love her?

The last one caught her by surprise. Love wasn't a word she used very often, even when it came to joking around. She believed love existed. She saw it with Peter and Emma. She felt it when she thought about Ryan or her carnival family. Having the opportunity to express that level of devotion to one person was foreign to her. Peter was compassionate, always putting others first. She could tell why it was easy for him to open up to Emma and create a life. She wasn't so optimistic about her own future. She was friendly enough, cared, but to a certain extent, she did keep her walls up.

Gabriel slowly reached over, wrapping his hand around hers. When she glanced over at him, surprised by his open display, he didn't appear to notice. He was facing forward, eyes on the happy couple in the front. Claire turned her attention back to Matt and Janice, trying to remind herself why she was here. But instead, she remember how it had felt to wake up after their night in Paris.

_Claire woke up in her trailer, wrapped up in Gabriel's jacket. She took a moment to breath in the scent of it, pulling it tighter around her body. She hadn't been able to tell last night, but now she could clearly see it was black. No wonder the women in the cafe had looked at him the way they had. Remembering how she had acted, she inwardly cringed. Amanda would be disappointed that nothing had happened. There were no juicy details to share. _

_Amanda would appreciate the scene at __Breizh Cafe__. Given the right clothes, she would fit right in with the Parisian women Claire had seen. Like her mother, Amanda had loads of confidence when it came to men and her own body. Claire envied that, never having felt sexy or mysterious. She wasn't sure how to secure the allure most women seemed to have over their men. It was even harder to imagine when she thought of Gabriel. He was cut from the same cloth as Amanda. He knew who he was. He knew what he looked like. He knew what affect he had on women…specifically her. _

_She had been so deep in thought about the evening's events she had completely forgotten the carnival was moving on to their next location. It wasn't until she heard the sounds of someone hooking up her trailer that she realized she had chores to do and prep work for the transition. _

_Tossing her covers and the jacket off, she hurried to her drawers to find more acceptable clothes to wear. Her red dress was appropriate for their crepe date, but not for moving. As soon as she realized she had considered last night a date, she felt the furious blushing return to her face. Quickly throwing on a t-shirt and jeans, she darted out the door, barefoot, not concerned about her feet. _

"_Morning," Gabriel greeted her, as he attempted to finish connecting her truck to the trailer. _

"_What are you doing?" _

_He chuckled. "Getting you ready to go, Sleeping Beauty."_

_The grin indicated he was in a good mood, so she played along. "Well, someone did keep me up pretty late last night." _

"_Sounds kinky."_

"_You wish." _

_He muttered something under his breath that sounded like, "Yes, I do." But when he spoke again, he had his snarky grin on. "I know what you ladies do in your free time."_

"_Oh really?" she crossed her arms over her chest, raising an eyebrow. "And what exactly is that?"_

_His grin widened. "Talk about me." Claire felt herself blushing and tried to control her facial expression. She hadn't expected him to say that. She hoped he hadn't heard her shower conversation with Tracy and Amanda the day before. If he knew the things they had discussed, she wouldn't be able to face him. "Do you think we could sneak off the reservation Saturday?"_

"_Saturday?" She thought for a moment, glad he had changed the subject. "As in the day after tomorrow?"_

"_Yes."_

"_Like a date?"_

"_The invitation said I could bring someone and I thought you'd enjoy being able to see Hiro, Parkman and your uncle without the presence of your father," he stated. _

_Claire tried not to be bothered by his choice of words. It was true she did want to see everyone and be able to actually talk to them. Seeing them at the wedding made her miss the other Specials she had been tied to through the series of uncharacteristically strange events that had affected them all. After traveling to Paris, she had suspected Gabriel cared more for her than a friend. Hadn't he hinted at that multiple times? _

"_So I'm your plus one?" _

"_In so many words. Yes." _

"_Oh." She couldn't think of anything better to say at the moment._

_To say she was disappointed was an understatement. The despair she felt shocked her. She had been replaying their conversations over and over in her head, working up the nerve to finish what had begun last night. Now she was convinced he would never kiss her. _

Remembering it now and recalling their more recent interlude, she felt a hint of blush resurface on her cheeks. She felt silly for having doubted his motives. As if he was sensing her thoughts, Gabriel leaned over and whispered in her ear. "Keep doing that and your uncle is going to think I did more than kiss you." Claire forced herself to straighten up, raising her eyes to focus on the end of the renewal ceremony.

Gabriel held her hand the entire time.

* * *

Once the vowel renewal had concluded, all the guests were ushered into an adjoining room. They had all been invited to celebrate with food, cocktails, and dancing. It was much larger and furnished with several round tables, an arch covered in white tulle, and a bar. Though alcohol had no effect on him, Gabriel felt the need to get drinks. He wasn't going to be the one to put a damper on the party. He could blend in with the rest of the guests. He had quickly determined that anyone with abilities was among the select few. Most of the other guests attending the ceremony were normal. Pretending to take part in a beverage or two was easier than having to explain why he didn't drink to some nosy Wall-Streeter.

Peter came to stand beside Gabriel with Emma in tow. It was the first time he had seen his friend in almost a week. He was surprised Peter would choose to speak to him before running off to see Claire. "She looks happy." He commented, his focus on his niece.

"You," Emma signed to Gabriel, "You look happy too."

"I am," he admitted.

For the first time in years, he felt peaceful, fulfilled. The hunger was gone, his anger was subdued, and he felt as though all the unknown things he had been searching for no longer mattered. He was content.

He smiled, watching Claire out on the dance floor with Hiro. Styx was playing and they were doing their best attempts at the robot dance. Claire had discarded her heels earlier, now standing only a few inches shorter than Hiro. _Midgets_, he thought with a slight shake of his head. She was laughing at the Japanese man's sharp, short movements, trying to mimic them in her own way. There was a light in her eyes, brighter than before.

She had been very still during the ceremony. Once he had noticed her chewing on her bottom lip and he knew she was analyzing their kiss. In an attempt to both console her and prove to her he had wanted it just as much as she had, he had reached over to hold her hand. He wasn't sure if that had been the appropriate move, but she hadn't pulled away from him. She hadn't said a word to him either. He was a bit uncomfortable with that fact.

"Are you going to get out there?" Peter asked, motioning to the dance floor.

"No."

"Oh, right," Peter nodded, making a face, "Because a reformed ex-psychopath would never do anything like that, right?"

"I can't dance."

"Neither can Matt, but that's not stopping him," Peter laughed, watching their friend try to teach his son how to do the sprinkler and the shopping cart.

While Peter looked on at the humorous event, Gabriel turned his attention to Janice. She was a well put together woman, but it was clear she was infatuated with Matt. His terrible dance skills did not diminish the love she held for her husband. She seemed to love him more for it. It was a difficult concept for Gabriel to understand. He had strived for years to be the best, special, perfect. His methods had changed over the years, but the ultimate goal hadn't. Recently, he chased the perfection to prove himself to Claire. Had he been going about it all wrong?

"Go on, buddy," Peter patted him on the back. "I know you want to."

_Damn the Petrelli's and their need to meddle in all things. _

He moved out onto the dance floor. Claire noticed him instantly, the smile on her face widening. It gave him courage. Hiro moved in front of her, gesturing to him to join in their jolted movements. He wanted to roll his eyes, but contained himself. This was the first time Claire had been among her friends in a way she could be herself, be free. He would not ruin that for her.

Once he reached their small group, the music changed. Gabriel dropped his robot arms instantly, glad for the next song, until he realized it was a slow song. Hiro's smile became larger, if that was even possible. Behind Claire's head, he motioned to Gabriel and her to come together. It was nice. In a way it was encouraging to have the Asian's approval. Until, Hiro also began making kissing faces. Gabriel inwardly groaned, preparing to turn around and leave.

Claire reached out, grabbing his arm. "Are you going to ask me to dance?" Before he could respond, she threw her thumb backwards over her shoulder, "Unless you're already taken." Her gesture was to point out Hiro, who was still making not-so-subtle references to them being romantically linked.

"I'd prefer your affection." He told her, taking her in his arms. "Besides, my Japanese is a little rusty."

She laughed. Gabriel pulled her closer, allowing her to lead because he couldn't find the beat. He felt awkward, placing his hands on her hips, while she swayed back and forth. It was as if she had to drag him about the floor. If it bothered her, she wasn't showing it. Her face was lit up. Her eyes were shining, as she held back giggles. They moved around until he forgot how absurd he looked.

The sounds of the crowd around him, the song playing, and even Hiro's constant suggestions behind Claire's head couldn't distract him from her. She was beautiful. She always had been beautiful, but tonight, right now in this moment, she was radiant. It was as if the light existed only to illuminate her.

* * *

Claire had been aware Gabriel wasn't comfortable dancing. Despite that, she had been impressed he had let her lead. Judging by his level of unease with the overall knowledge of rhythm, she let it slide. He had shown her a simpler side of him, a side that had embarrassment and self-conscious issues. It made him more real, more human.

"You want to hear something interesting?" she asked Gabriel, as they walked back to their room.

"Shoot."

"I finally got the opportunity to thank Hiro for delivering me to carnival after the Ferris wheel stunt that never was. But you know what was strange?" She gave him a pointed look. "He said he didn't know what I was talking about. He thought something was wrong with his English. He even made Ando come over to make sure it wasn't lost in translation."

Gabriel deadpanned. "Strange," he agreed. She punched him in the arm. "What was that for?"

"You little liar!"

"I'd hardly call myself little."

Claire rolled her eyes. "It was you, wasn't it?"

"Yes," he admitted.

"Why?"

"Because that was what you wanted, what you needed."

"But I hated you."

He shrugged. "That was a small price to pay to make sure you were happy."

Claire froze. He stalled outside their room, waiting for her to piece it together. "How long?"

"A while."

She shook her head. "That's not an answer. How long?"

"It started not long after Samuel inked me and it just kept growing after that."

Her face was unreadable. When she didn't ask another question, he unlocked their room, allowing her to pass through the threshold, before closing the door behind them. For a moment she stood in front of him. She looked like she wanted to say something. Her mouth opened and closed and opened again. She bit her lip. Her hands were twisting at her sides, but she remained quiet.

Claire sat on the edge of the bed, facing him. The silence between them was growing, making the room tense and slightly awkward. He searched his mind for something to say, anything to end this, but nothing came. Once again, he cursed Peter for meddling. If he had not gone out on the dance floor they would still be downstairs with the others. Instead, he had trapped them both up here with no way out. He was such an idiot.

Suddenly, she rose to her feet, removing her blazer, then unzipping her dress.

"Claire?"

He wasn't sure what was happening. He was also unsure if he should stop her. She didn't respond, as she stepped out of her outfit, leaving herself to stand in a black slip, barefoot on the floor. He had to force himself to swallow. If he had been struck at the sight of her dressed up in a form-fitting dress, this was on an entirely different level.

Claire undid her hair, allowing the natural curls to fall down and bounce off her shoulders before framing her face. The top of the slip came to rest a few inches, displaying her smooth skin. He couldn't pull his eyes away from her, though a part of him knew this was not appropriate. Another part ignored etiquette, taking it all in.

In the next moment, she climbed up onto the bed, standing on the edge. She paused for a moment before jumping up and down, moving closer to the center. He didn't move. He wasn't sure what was happening. All he was sure of was the fact that the slip was rising to a dangerous level with each hop she took.

"Come on!" she laughed, signaling for him to come join her. She was oblivious to the effect she was having on him. When he didn't, she sprang closer to him, pulling on his arm. "Jump!"

He was still surprised by the effortless way she touched him. Her eyes were shining. She was full of life and freedom. Peter was right. She was happy. She was here with him and she was truly, undeniably happy. He couldn't refuse her now. He began hopping up and down.

"This isn't very dignified," he stated, keeping his eyes on the floor or the bedspread. He didn't want to ruin her fun. If he could control his multitude of powers, he could control himself now.

"Please," she said, practically giddy. "When do you ever get to do this?"

"Why should I want to?"

"Oh, that's right," she rolled her eyes, still jumping. "I'm Gabriel Gray, watchmaker, ex-serial killer, and captain of the no-fun zone."

Why did everyone say that to him? In his attempts to live a civilized lifestyle, he was borderline boring, or at the very least extremely strict about how he handled himself in specific situations. Seeing her expression was a challenge. If she wanted to play, he'd play. He raised an eyebrow and flicked his finger to the side, sending a pillow telepathically shooting into her. The sudden movement startled her. She fell off the bed with a thud. He chuckled. "Who said anything about no fun?"

Climbing back up onto the bed, she cried, "This means war!"

She grabbed a pillow and swung it hard at him. He dodged before sending another pillow flying at her back. She fell forward, catching herself on the headrest. She was still smiling, but her eyes were determined. She picked up a pillow. Claire brought it down hard and he let her hit him in the side with it. They went back and forth trying to hit each while hopping around on the top of the bed.

Neither heard the voices outside in the hallway.

* * *

"What are they doing in there?" Peter Petrelli pressed his ear against the room door.

"Peter," Emma clapped her hands out in front of her to try to get his attention away from the room.

"You don't think they are…" he trailed over, his face contorting slightly.

"Peter," she wrapped her arms around her husband. "Leave them alone. This is what you wanted, isn't it?"

"Yeah," he replied, hesitantly. Moving out of her embrace. He was too distracted to notice her growing irritation.

"You were down there coaching him to go outside of his comfort zone, because she was so happy. Now you want to go back on that?"

"That's not what I'm saying."

"Yes it is. By the way, if you haven't noticed, Claire is a grown-woman."

"She's seventeen."

"Not really," Emma shook her head. "Just to you."

"She's my niece. You think I want to think about what could happen in there?" He moved towards the door, ready to knock. "Maybe I should check on them."

"Peter." Emma's voice went flat. She wrapped her hands around his arm, pulling him down the corridor. "She can handle Gabriel."

"I don't want to think about that."

Emma gave him an annoyed expression. "Then don't."

Peter took one last suspicious look at the hotel room door, before allowing his wife to drag him back to their suite.

* * *

Claire gave one last swing of her pillow. She made contact with Gabriel's chest, but her footing on the edge of the mattress was not stable. The two collapsed back onto the bed, nearly smacking both of their heads into the headboard. Gabriel was lying on his back, one arm at his side, one wrapped around Claire to keep her from falling further forward. She repositioned herself, while she caught her breath, between small bursts of laughter. The strap on her slip had fallen off her shoulder, hanging dangerously low on her chest.

"See? That was fun." She grinned, unconscious to how she appeared.

"You and I have varying ideas of the word."

She ignored his sarcasm. After a slight pause, she was resting against him, her cheek against his chest, still smiling. It signified he had made the right call by playing along. She was content. He looked over at her, raising his free hand to brush strands of her hair back. She closed her eyes when he touched her.

"You know when I was little my mom used to do that," she told him. "Well, you know, my real mom, not Meredith. She would come up to tuck me in at night and she'd play with my hair. Kind of weird, right? I mean, most kids want you to rub their back to put them to sleep, but not me."

"I don't think it's weird."

She propped herself up to look at him. "What were you like when you were a kid?" she asked.

"Quiet. Afraid of everything. Awkward."

"That's hard to believe."

"It was just my mom and I most of my life. She was all I had after my father abandoned us."

"Where is she now?" Claire questioned. Gabriel stopped combing his fingers through her hair. "I'd like to meet her sometime. We could send her a ticket to the carnival, if you want. She must be wondering what you've been up to since you aren't in New York."

"She's dead." He felt a guilty twist in his gut and his hand fell to his side.

Her face fell. "I'm sorry," she apologized quietly. "I didn't know."

She leaned into him, placing her arms around his torso and hugging him. Gabriel stilled under her hold. _What is she doing? _He felt her rest her head between his shoulder and his neck. She didn't run or scream or cry or give him a disgusted look. She was curled up against him, enveloping him in her presence as a way of comfort. The sincerity felt like a knife twisting in his chest and he pushed her back, unable to accept it.

"It was an accident," he found himself telling her. "I was delighted when I found out about my ability. I wanted to surprise her, prove to her that I had made something of myself the way she always wanted me to. I wanted the moment to be perfect. Once I had acquired telekinesis, I felt as if I was top of the world. I had practiced. I down everything I wanted to say and show her. I got dressed up, took over a treat, but when I got there," he stopped and took a deep breath.

"She was surprised, but she wasn't happy. She was afraid of me. Me. Her only son. The child she never could have. She had been so desperate to have me, she had purchased me, the way most people go out and buy a new pet or a car." He felt his anger rising as he spoke. His hand balled up into a fist at his side. Tiny sparks of blue electricity began shooting off. "She was my mother. I thought she would understand. I thought she would be as amazed as I was."

"My entire life I wanted to be special. Some days I'd come home from school and hope my real parents would be there waiting, just so they could tell me that I was an alien or that they were taking me away somewhere I belonged. I would feel bad afterwards, knowing my mother had sacrificed so much for me to keep us fed and so we could have a home. It was unfair to her. As I got older my desires changed. I didn't want my real parents to come take me away. I wanted them to search me out because I was a hero." He was almost to the point of shaking now. The electricity rolling off his entire arm as he spoke. "But I only turned out to be the worst kind of villain."

Claire didn't say a word while he spoke. She sat motionless, her eyes on the bedspread.

"I killed her."

He waited for her reaction at his admission. Any moment now, she would recoil from him. She would get up and leave and that would be the end of it. She had always known what he was. She had seen his work up close. Still, his darkest secret was something he had shared with very few. Unlike when he had killed for abilities, this death had been shameful. Her eyes widened, then softened as the sad undertone crept in.

Claire put her hand over his fist, not flinching at the sparks. "Gabriel." One look into her eyes and the memories stopped. He forced himself to calm down immediately. He understood he couldn't harm her physically, but on principle he stopped. "You aren't the villain."

"I was. I hurt a lot of people."

"That was before." She was sitting up now, her hands on his, holding on as if she thought he was going to disappear. "I understand it now."

He closed his eyes. Flashes of his past victims faces flew through his mind. He saw her numerous times. Their last meeting before her attempt at creating a brave new world had been the most despicable. Though he hadn't cut her open, he had harmed her deeper than ever before. He had betrayed her trust, her person, and used her to save himself. He felt her hands tighten their hold.

"Look at me." He did as she asked. "I can't imagine what it would have been like to go through what you went through. My mom and dad were supportive. Even Lyle had his moments. If they hadn't been, I can't tell you what that would have done to me. I don't think anyone can expect more from you than you have already done." His gaze wavered.

"You can't rewrite the past." A familiar thought crossed his mind and she quickly added, "And don't even think about talking to Hiro about it. He'll go off again about stepping on butterflies and Evil Butterfly Man." Just like that, she had shot down his best idea. Although he was already aware of the consequences, he often found himself returning to that option in his weaker moments. "You have created a new life. You are respected and loved by the people you once hurt. That isn't anything to be ashamed of. Don't take it lightly. You have accomplished more in the last five years than most people are able to accomplish in their entire lives. That is special."

Her words sunk in. He let them roll over him, penetrate his soul, consume him. Angela had predicted that he would save the cheerleader. What the Petrelli matriarch hadn't alluded to was that the real salvation was his. He had remained steadfast over the past five years in his efforts to be a hero. He had kept the hunger at bay, chosen the right path, but he still had to work at it. He was always working, always pushing to remain reformed. Now he felt something warm wash over him, embrace him the way he had envisioned embracing his new life. It was because of Claire.

By granting him her forgiveness and acceptance, she had given him true power. She had given him the ability to finally forgive himself. There wasn't any force on Earth that could keep him from her now.

She laid her head back down on his chest, her arms wrapping around him. She didn't say more. The silence wasn't uncomfortable now. It enveloped them, keeping them and the moment intact. He heard her breathing slow. He could feel the rise and fall of her chest as she fell asleep curled up against him. He placed his arms around her, gently holding her in place, as he hovered their bodies over the bed, so he could move the sheets back. After he covered them both up, he felt her turn, pressing herself closer to him in her sleep. He closed his eyes, treasuring the moment.

He was never letting her go.

* * *

_**Author's Note: Has anyone seen the trailer for Heroes Reborn? I'm not sure how I feel about it, but it does go along really well with an idea I had for a new Sylaire fanfic once this one is completed. **_


End file.
